ClaimMe

by Calista Fox

  And again…those eyes. They were stunning. Captivating. Hypnotic. Impossible to look away from.

  “Jane?” Drake prompted at the same time Toliver, still on the line, asked, “Miss Van Kamp?”

  “Um…” Jane couldn’t think clearly. She continued to stare at the flat screen like they were actually gazing directly into each other’s eyes. And then the warmth that seeped through her funneled into the heart of her until a glowing, searing ball of heat pulsed and radiated deep in her pussy, igniting myriad erotic sensations more powerful than anything she’d ever experienced with Drake or Shana.

  Drake didn’t prompt her a second time. He knew what, to some extent, was happening to her because she’d told him about her rare vampire gift. She possessed the ability to connect with others’ souls, whether they were immortal or not. She could literally tap into the essence of them and discover their desires and intentions and fears. It was a painful gift sometimes, when she encountered a pure, yet damaged soul, as she had with Shana. But this time…all she felt was strength and virility and passion. Along with an intense hunger that matched her own.

  She was so taken aback by her encounter with a kindred spirit—and one who was a werewolf, of all creatures—that she wasn’t at all prepared for what happened next. Not that anyone could have been prepared for what happened next.

  As the shifter continued to stare at her through the camera, the fireball deep in her cunt expanded until it burst and heat shot out in all directions, stealing her breath. Her heart leapt into her throat and her pulse skyrocketed. A deliciously wicked shiver shot through her body, causing the phone to slip from her fingers. The receiver would have hit the floor had Drake not quickly snatched it as it fell.

  His movements barely registered in her mind, and when he spoke to Toliver, it sounded as though he were miles away.

  “We’ll be right down,” he said before disconnecting the call.

  Jane’s hands flew to her stomach as it fluttered wildly, like thousands of butterflies had suddenly taken to flight. Her nipples tightened behind the structured bodice of the black, strapless minidress she wore and her clit tingled. The pulsing and throbbing in her pussy intensified to an almost unbearable degree, making carnal cravings spring to mind.

  She felt lightheaded and hazy, but when Drake wrapped a steadying hand around her arm because she swayed on her high heels, she snapped out of the trance.

  And instantly realized what the shifter had done to her.

  “Oh, no you didn’t!” she screamed at the monitor—or rather, the man whose ruggedly handsome visage filled it. “You did not just imprint on me!”

  Then she was out the door. She heard Drake right behind her as she flew down the hall, bypassed the elevator and hit the stairs, her feet barely touching the marble floor.

  As she reached the door to the backstage area of the club, Drake called out, “Jane! The humans!”

  She forced herself to stop before she barreled through the door and scared the living hell out of everyone backstage. Slowing her movements to the pace of an agitated mortal, she pushed open the heavy door, not giving the guard placed there a second thought. She stalked through the backstage, dodging the models in their various states of undress and paint jobs, which typically fascinated her. Not so tonight. She was furious. The anger welling within her pushed out some of the heat, though not all of it. Not nearly enough of it. Her skin tingled and her nipples were still impossibly hard.

  All the human emotions and sensations she’d experienced with Sean before she’d become a vampire—and which had transcended after the change, until the day Sean died—suddenly burned within her. They were bright and vibrant and so real, she almost felt human again.

  That aside, she was livid. The rage inside her trumped the sensuality that was scorching hot and so tempting to give in to. But Jane had spent the past fifty years resisting temptation. She could override the desire blazing through her if she concentrated instead on her fury.

  She wound her way through the crowd in the club, past the packed dance floor and the ridiculously expensive tables and chairs in the center of the room, the furniture positioned beneath even pricier chandeliers.

  Drake was hot on her heels, but he didn’t reach for her and try to reason with her. Not that there’d be any reasoning with her. There was absolutely no rationale to pacify a vampire when she’d been imprinted on by a werewolf.

  She gently—though not exactly patiently—pushed her way through the throng gathered close to the entrance and stepped around Toliver, who skillfully kept the uninvited guests at bay as they awaited Jane and Drake’s arrival.

  Moving in without hesitation, she got right up close and personal with the shifter whose glowing blue eyes would likely be forever engrained on her brain. And smacked him hard across his smug face.

  “Jane!”

  Drake’s arm wrapped around her waist in the next instant and he hauled her effortlessly against his body, lifting her slightly off the ground. Then he whipped her behind his back, placing himself between her and her kindred spirit before he released her. As if the werewolf would retaliate. Unlikely, given the bastard had imprinted on her. If anything, he might lunge at Drake for separating them. For being her protector when that was now the job of the shifter who’d claimed her.

  Rather than lunging, said shifter let out a low chuckle that made that fireball in her pussy burn bright again. A flicker of heat tickled her clit at the sound.

  In a deep, sensuous tone that sent flames dancing along her skin, he said, “What a spitfire.”

  “You son of a bitch!” she said from behind Drake, her fists clenching at her sides.

  Another soft, arousing chuckle followed and her knees practically knocked together.

  Her anger mounted. A vampire who practically melted into oblivion because of a werewolf was just plain pathetic. No two ways about it.

  Drake said to the shifters, “I’m Drake Halston. I own the club.” Over his shoulder, he told Jane in a quiet voice only those of the supernatural variety could hear, “Let’s not forget where we are, love.”

  She fumed. Peering around his very broad shoulder, she found Toliver and his crew in rigid stances, ready to toss out the intruders upon her or Drake’s signal.

  And then there was the cocky Mr. Imprint-Against-the-Imprintee’s-Will, whose eyes seemed to have not left her for a second.

  “Take it back,” she demanded. “Now!”

  He grinned at her. An easy, laid-back, half-assed smile that made her toes curl in her Prada peek-a-boos and made the fire burn brighter deep within her.

  Her innate sexual response to him was outrageous and absurd. He was a shapeshifter, for fuck’s sake! Not at all an acceptable mate for a vampire. They were…part animal, damn it!

  “I think you know I can’t reverse the inevitable,” he told her, his voice so smooth and sexy it seemed to ooze down her spine like warm honey. She gripped fistfuls of Drake’s dress shirt at his forearms to steady herself as her inner thighs quivered and her legs shook.

  Drake asked an obviously perplexed Toliver, “Is there a VIP salon available at the moment?”

  Toliver seemed reluctant to stand down, but with a reassuring nod from Drake, he grabbed the clipboard from the podium. Aside from the guards, Drake, Jane and the shifters, along with the guests awaiting admittance, no one seemed tuned in to the tense scene at the entrance of the club. It was business as usual, Jane noted, with the cocktails flowing, the dance floor spilling over onto the carpeted area and the crimson-colored, velvet curtains lifting on mural after mural.

  Toliver said, “They’re all booked, but Salon B is open until midnight. I can cancel the reservation.”

  “Do it.”

  They were inching close to that hour, and something told Jane this un-imprinting thing—if that were even possible!—wasn’t a quick fix.

  Drake said to her, “Why don’t you lead the way.”

  She marched off, sensing the imprinter directly behind her, along with
his friend, whom she’d yet to even spare a glance at. Drake, she knew, brought up the rear. He’d want to keep everyone in check.

  Jane ascended the steps to the tiered level that housed the VIP salons. She shoved the door open to Salon B, a cozy and intimate living room with TV screens that displayed various angles around the club, including the mini stages cut into the two-story-tall walls that showcased the body art.

  She whirled on her unwelcomed guests, propping her hands on her hips. Only to let out a sharp gasp when her gaze locked with Mr. Imprint’s gorgeous, refined-looking friend and that fiery sensation inside her erupted again.

  “No!” she cried out as she stomped her foot. “Oh come on!”

  Chapter Two

  A double imprint!

  How was that even possible?

  Jane stared at the shifter who was the complete antithesis of her first imprinter. He was a few inches taller than the other man, at roughly six-foot-three. He had well-behaved dark-brown hair, neatly and stylishly trimmed. His eyes were a rich chocolate color and their depths seemed to know no bounds. Jane felt their magnetic pull as strongly as she had with the blue eyes of the other shifter, making her feel wrapped in something warm and luxurious from which she didn’t have the heart or the good sense to unravel herself.

  Like his friend, the dark-haired shifter had chiseled facial features, though they were more aristocratic than rugged. His jaw was clean-shaven and his lightly corded neck gave way to broad shoulders and an expansive chest. He wore a black suit with a charcoal-colored shirt opened at the neck, in lieu of a tie. Conversely, the other man sported black jeans and a black shirt, also opened at the neck, offering a hint of what appeared to be extremely well-defined pectoral muscles.

  Together, they made quite a powerful and dynamic duo, despite their vast differences in style and disposition. Whereas the ruggedly handsome first imprinter exuded charisma and a devil-may-care attitude, the darker one gave off a more serious, intense vibe.

  He was the alpha.

  Jane could neither sever nor deny the instant attraction to both men, though the chemistry was completely different with each of them. The charismatic one called to her playful side, making her want to strip him bare, drag him to the floor and climb all over him, tasting his skin and feeling his heat. He emitted the warmth she’d longed for all these decades.

  The leader, however, instinctively touched something buried deep within her. She couldn’t help the way her soul connected with his and she waded through murky, mysterious waters that had a treacherous undertow. She felt his pain, so dark and ominous and laser-sharp, it made her gasp again.

  His eyes narrowed on her. “What did you just do?” he demanded.

  She’d stirred something inside him, she suspected. That happened sometimes when she delved too deep.

  Jane took several steps backward, staggering almost drunkenly until the backs of her legs brushed against a sofa. She sank onto a plump cushion as her body started to tremble again.

  Not averting her eyes from the alpha, she asked, “Who are you?”

  His jaw clenched for a moment.

  Drake took a long stride toward her, but she held up her hand to warn him off. He’d get the wolves’ hackles up if he continued to protect her from them. And God forbid he should lay a hand on her now that they’d both claimed her.

  “Don’t antagonize them,” she said in a shaky voice. “They’re not here to hurt me.”

  He backed off, but just barely. Drake was an undisputable alpha himself.

  The refined shifter said, “I’m Jude Marks.” Briefly inclining his head toward the first imprinter, he added, “This is Cray McKinley.”

  “Jane,” was the most she could manage to say by way of an introduction. The pain Jude felt mirrored her own. A relentless rage, a ferocious longing and an inescapable sense of guilt and grief overwhelmed her. His emotions had somehow entwined with hers and they swirled around low in her belly, making her insides ache and her heart constrict. She didn’t need much oxygen to function, which was a good thing, because her breath was abnormally scarce.

  “What’s going on?” Cray asked, his gaze also on Jane. All eyes were on Jane.

  Drake answered for her. “She has a gift. She connects with souls when she deems them worthy. But that means she reads and feels emotions, sometimes intensely, as though they’re her own. It can be a pleasant experience or…it can be a painful one. I’d venture to say it’s the latter tonight.”

  “Who was she?” Jane asked in a quiet voice, her gaze still locked with Jude’s.

  He was instantly unsettled. Breaking their eye contact, he turned away. Jane sprang to her feet, surprising everyone, including herself. Jude looked at her over his shoulder, a curious expression on his chiseled face.

  To Drake, she said in a breathless voice, “Perhaps a little less testosterone in the room would help ease the tension.”

  He gave her a contemplative look, clearly not willing to leave her alone with two shifters, even if they had imprinted on her.

  “Drake.” Her tone was insistent.

  “Fine.” He stalked toward the door, but said, “Call me if you need me.”

  “Of course.” She knew she wouldn’t. There was nothing Drake could do to help her at this point.

  Jude sat on another sofa facing her and said, in answer to her earlier question, “I suppose it’d be moot to lie and say I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  She nodded. “I’m pretty good at this. You can’t hide anything from me. Especially now that you’ve imprinted on me. The gift is even more powerful.”

  “Some gift,” Cray muttered. “You’re close to tears.”

  She tried to compose herself, but the pain was real and palpable and…excruciating.

  As she took a few steps toward Jude, he said, “Her name was Celine. She was a member of my pack until a hunter attacked her. He left her to suffer instead of finishing her off. She was injured too badly to self-heal. I found her just before she passed. There was nothing I could do to save her. She died in my arms.”

  Jane sucked in a sharp breath as she felt the familiar stab of pain in her chest that always accompanied memories of Sean. He’d been slain too. She knew how devastating it was to lose a lover and her heartache doubled as she experienced Jude’s torment along with her own.

  She swayed again on her high heels, reeling from wave after wave of dread, sorrow and angst washing over her. Cray moved behind her, gently placing his hands on her biceps to stabilize her.

  “Jane,” he whispered in a soothing tone. “Try to make it stop.”

  “I can’t,” she mumbled as tears filled her eyes and grief consumed her. Not just hers, but Jude’s as well. She said to him, “You didn’t imprint on Celine, but you loved her.”

  “Very much. She wasn’t the one though.”

  “How can I be?” she asked as fat drops rolled down her cheeks. “For either of you? And both of you?”

  “I don’t know,” Jude told her. “It’s not something I’ve ever experienced before and I don’t know exactly how it works, except to say that something within both of us connected with something deep within you.”

  “Like soul mates.” She’d thought Sean had been hers, but even with him, she’d never felt this magnetic pull so acutely.

  “True mates,” Cray said from behind her. “Jude and I always thought of it as a mysterious and unattainable wolf legend, because neither of us had experienced it in our twenty-nine years.”

  She turned to face him, finding that breaking the eye contact with Jude helped to lessen the agony radiating throughout her body. She stared up at Cray, allowing her soul to connect with his instead. Warmth flowed through her, along with an intimate sensuality that helped to push out some of the pain. The very essence of Cray was magical to her. He oozed sex appeal, no doubt about it, but he also emitted a quiet strength. A gentle passion that was the polar opposite of the fierce passion she sensed within Jude.

  A molten sensation seep
ed through her veins and down her spine as Cray’s large hands clasped her waist and their bodies gravitated toward each other and naturally melded together. Jane’s fingers touched his skin at the opening of his shirt, the tips trailing along his supple skin. His muscles tensed in response to her light strokes.

  He was so much like Sean, before he’d been turned. His skin was hot and it felt heavenly against hers. He chased away the chill she’d felt for longer than she could remember and his heat almost eclipsed her and Jude’s pain. Enough that she could breathe a little easier and feel something other than sheer agony.

  She asked, “How did you know I was the one?” It was, as he’d said earlier, an inevitability that could not be reversed. Acceptance was really her only course of action.

  “We caught your scent when we were up around Niagara Falls,” he told her.

  She blinked. “You could smell me all the way up there?”

  He grinned. It was an easy, comfortable, yet breathtaking smile. She melted against him, her breasts pressing below the hard ledge of his pectoral muscles. Her four-inch stilettos put her at a perfect height, allowing their bodies to conform to each other.

  “It’s a very enticing bouquet,” he mused in a low, erotically stirring tone. “You’re not the first vampire we’ve encountered, but you’re definitely the first one who smells like lilacs in the spring.”

  Jane laughed, Cray’s lighthearted nature overriding some of her inner turmoil. “My favorite fragrance. I always wear it.”

  “It drew us here,” he told her as his head dipped and he sniffed the skin at her neck.

  “You knew I was watching you when I was upstairs in Drake’s office. How?”

  “I sensed it.”

  “You imprinted on me through a security camera. Without even ever seeing me.”