by Vivian Wood
“What does it matter who I date?” Aubrey hissed, standing and staring her father in the eyes.
Her mother interceded, grabbing her father’s wrist and tugging him back a step. Her mother turned on Aubrey in the next moment, easily guessing what Aubrey was doing.
“Because you’re a pure bred Berserker, and you have a duty to pass those genes along, Aubrey Rose Umbridge. Now stop trying to pick a fight with your father.”
“I’m not taking a mate,” Aubrey said, crossing her arms to mirror her dad’s pose.
“Then you’ll be banned from the clan, and I know you don’t want that,” her mother said.
“You— you’re not serious!” Aubrey exclaimed.
“Look, I know this isn’t something you want. You have your life in the city, and your friends. Your father and I are glad that you’ve found your way, we really are,” her mother said.
“But?” Aubrey prompted.
“But you have to try to find a mate. It’s not something that we sought out, but it’s happening. All we’re asking for right now is that you attend a party, which isn’t a very big deal, is it?” her mother asked.
“A party in Montana, where I have to choose some strange man to take as a life partner. I will repeat myself; are you kidding me?”
“You’re going,” her father said, shaking his head and retreating to stand near the couch. “We’re not going to discuss this any further. Will you need to be escorted to the mixer, or will you attend on your own?”
“Jack! Quit being a bully, you’re not helping!” her mother sighed. “Aubrey, please. Please just go to the party. Stay for an hour, meet a few people. If you hate it, we’ll try another tack.”
Looking at her mother’s worried face, Aubrey melted a little.
“Fine,” she sighed. “I’ll go, but this isn’t going to work. I like my life the way it is. I’m not meant to have a mate.”
“Stubborn,” her father muttered, turning and stomping off toward his man-cave shed in the back yard.
“Thank you, dear. I think if you give it a chance, you might even have a good time,” her mother offered.
“Right. Well, if that’s the last of the insane demands for today, I’m going to head home,” Aubrey said.
Aubrey saw the hurt in her mother’s expression as she left, but she couldn’t bring herself to soothe it away. This was only the latest in a long line of demands from her father, broken promises made in the name of saving the Berserkers. This was America, not some backward third-world country, and yet her kind were still subject to the same social pressures and marital arrangements as Indian brides.
Seething, Aubrey climbed into her black VW rabbit and navigated her car onto the highway. I-5 passed by as she worked through the problem in her mind, the scene outside her windshield becoming a blur of white-dotted lines in the growing darkness.
For about the thousandth time, Aubrey wished she’d been born human. If she had, none of this would be happening. Even the thing with Lawrence wouldn’t have happened.
She shuddered and forced her thoughts away from that bleak period of her life. Her mind drifted to the party, to the thought of eligible men. She had to admit that she wouldn’t mind meeting a hunky stranger and having a little private tete-a-tete, but she didn’t want more than that. It had been far too long since she’d had wild, heart-racing, breath-stealing sex.
She sucked in a breath, unable to stop her mind from going straight to Luke. Luke, her every fantasy come to life. Luke, the no-last-name lover. The Berserker who’d shared the one moment in her adult life where Aubrey had solidly fucked things up all on her own. It was her biggest moment of regret, bigger even than agreeing to meet Lawrence for the first time.
Luke… She’d met him during a weekend getaway in San Diego. It was almost two years ago, though Aubrey could barely believe that. Luke was incredible, good enough to skip out on the whole weekend of fun she’d planned with her college girlfriends. She’d met him in the bar of her hotel, both recognizing each other as Berserker blood. Luke had been so tall and muscular, his dark hair clipped short, his jawline dusted with several days’ worth of stubble. And those eyes… he had the most incredible eyes, like dark sea glass. He’d introduced himself, asked her name, and twenty minutes later they were in the gilded hotel elevator, lip-locked and panting for more.
They’d laid in his hotel bed together for forty-five solid hours, laughing and ordering room service champagne and exploring each other’s bodies. The sex was mind-altering, truly like some kind of drug. He’d touched her everywhere. Though he was the silent type, he kept up a running commentary of compliments and pleas and soft growls, all while his big hands swept over her hips and thighs and arms and stomach, the places on her body that made her feel insecure. He was insatiable, every bit as hungry for her as she’d been for him. The time they spent together was a balm to her soul, healing some of the dark, broken places inside her that Lawrence had twisted up and charred.
And yet, she’d never asked his last name. When Luke kissed her for the last time, eyes growing dark as he explained that he was redeploying the next day and had no choice but to leave, Aubrey made a decision. She wanted their time to stay perfect, a crisp bubble of memory that she could hold onto.
So she’d just given Luke a hug and thanked him. When he got up to take a shower and dress, she’d packed up her bag and fled. She hadn’t even let herself try to find him, though she’d thought about him nonstop for over a year. She could never quite let the idea of him go, even though he made her think of…
She shut the thought down. Now was no time to be thinking of her deepest, darkest secret, something she could barely even admit to herself.
No, she’d rather think of Luke, how sexy he’d been. He was still her favorite fantasy; any time she got lonely and decided to take the edge off with a little self-love, Luke was there for her.
Aubrey shifted in her seat, realizing that tonight was shaping up to be one of those nights. Something to get her mind off the weekend, at least. Turning up the radio, she smiled to herself and pressed on the gas, marveling as the San Francisco skyline loomed up ahead.
11
Two
Aubrey stood in the oversized guest bathroom at the Montana Lodge, staring at herself in the mirror. Her long hair was twisted into a loose side braid, mascara rimming her bright green eyes, a little blush bringing out her cheekbones. She wore a delicate, empire-waisted dress just the creamy yellow color of afternoon sunlight, the neckline dipping to show off her décolletage. A pretty white lace ribbon circled her waist just below her generous breasts and tied at her back, shaping out the hourglass of her figure. She’d finished her ensemble with a soft, short-sleeved white cardigan and fire-red cowboy boots, a beloved impulse purchase she’d made a few years back and rarely had the opportunity to show off.
She looked down at her arms, at her tattoos. She had a thick black ankh on one wrist, and a Celtic wrought-iron cross on the other. One of her upper arms featured a beautiful grass-green snake coiled around a vivid red apple. The other arm had a scattered pattern of tiny stars, moons, and planets in different colors. She loved her tattoos, and added one to her collection every year as a birthday present to herself.
Turning to the side, Aubrey sighed. The party outside was in full swing, and here she was hiding in the freaking bathroom. She’d had a couple of cocktails, danced a few turns with a couple of handsome Berserkers, and still she felt… frumpy. No matter how well dressed she was, how witty her banter could be, her heart just wasn’t in it. She kept looking around at her competition, noticing how a few of the Berserker females were modelesque blondes who flirted and mingled with ease.
Aubrey was more than a little full-figured. She had big boobs, wide hips, and a seriously serious ass. Biting her lip, she looked at her phone. She only had to make it for another twenty minutes, and then the reluctant promise she’d made to her mother would be fulfilled.
Is it really trying if you hid in the bathroom for half
the party? she chided herself.
Straightening, pushing back her shoulders, she forced herself to leave the bathroom and head back outside. When she stepped out onto the Lodge’s wraparound porch, fiddle music swelled and engulfed her. She decided she’d get another drink first, and then give socializing one more try. Maybe after that she could even find that cute dark-haired guy she’d danced with before and take another shot at the two-step.
She stepped down into the buzzing crowd, only making it a few feet before a huge blond guy staggered backward and almost knocked her down.
“You’re such a fucking waste of space, Emmet!” another man shouted.
Aubrey peered around the blond man to find a handsome dark-haired Berserker, face flushed red with fury, fists clenched against the need to shift and fight. She eyed the guy, thinking he looked a little familiar. Then again, she’d thought that about four different times tonight. She kept seeing these tall, dark, and handsome types and thinking that they reminded her of Luke.
Luke isn’t here. He’s a fucking catch, of course he’s already mated. Stop being so pathetic, she reminded herself for the fifth time.
The blond guy said something nasty, and the dark-haired guy moved like lightning. His fist connected with the other Berserker’s face, blood welling instantly. Aubrey made a face and shuffled out of their way, letting the sea of strangers pour in and break up the fight before things got out of hand.
Aubrey made a wide loop around the outside of the tent in order to avoid all the fuss. She just wandered and people-watched for a minute, then remembered that she’d been headed for the bar. Making a beeline for her next vodka cranberry cocktail, she stopped behind a drunk couple who were taking up multiple seats at the bar. From the way the blonde was draped over the big guy’s body, it seemed like the mixer was working out just fine for them.
She stepped right up behind them, feeling silly as she waved to the bartender, trying to get his attention.
“Water. Lots of water,” the man at the bar mumbled when the bartender arrived.
Aubrey froze. That voice… she knew that voice. For a split second, she was afraid that she’d somehow ended up standing right behind Lawrence. But he wouldn’t be here, of course. He had a mate and lived on the other side of the country.
And then it hit her, the reason she knew that gruff voice. It had played in her very naughty fantasy, only days before. Unfortunately, rather than making her tingle all over like his voice did in her dreams, in person it made her blanch.
It was Luke, of all fucking people. He was here, all right. And halfway wearing a thin, drunk blonde girl whose hand was creeping up his thigh, heading straight for his cock. Something dark stirred within her, a flash of guilt, shame, and fear all at once. Anger, too, though she didn’t understand that reaction at all.
Luke stiffened, sensing the holes she was burning in his back. Before Aubrey could turn and run, he turned and made direct, close eye contact. His expression was puzzled for a moment before it fell, as if he couldn’t be less thrilled to see her.
“Aubrey!” he exclaimed. She couldn’t help but gape at him for a second, all that tall, dark, and handsome suddenly just inches from her fingertips. And in a compromising position with another lady, no less. Aubrey eyed the woman without malice; she just hoped the other woman would be smarter than she herself had been. Much more careful.
“Luke,” Aubrey replied, making a point to look away from the blonde that was now scooting herself into his lap. Her gaze was drawn back to him in a mere moment. Aubrey couldn’t help notice that his hair was longer now, less soldierly. His tan was lighter, too, but he was every bit as gorgeous as when she’d first laid eyes on him. Looking at him made her heart wrench in a way she hadn’t felt since the moment she’d walked away from him two years ago.
“Uh… this isn’t what it looks like. I’m drunk,” he said, pushing the woman back into her own seat.
Aubrey was surprised for a moment, since Luke had made a big point out of not drinking when she’d met him. Then she realized that it didn’t matter. This whole interaction was ridiculous, and she wanted nothing more than to escape. She’d done her duty to her parents, and now it was high time that she headed home. There was absolutely nothing here for her but heartbreak.
“I see,” she said. “Of course.”
She turned to leave, but Luke lurched forward and grabbed her wrist. His eyes dropped down to her cleavage, then darted over to her tattoos, mostly new in the years since she’d seen him. Something about the way he looked at her made her skin draw tight, and she shivered.
“Aubrey, wait!” he insisted.
“I think not,” she snapped, trying to pull from his grasp.
“I didn’t know you’d be here!” he said.
“Yeah, me either. Now let me go,” she said. Ripping away from him, she whirled and half-ran from the tent.
Her eyes stung with hot tears, shame and anger filling her once more. She scolded herself inwardly. Luke was nothing to her, she was nothing to him. Just a two-night stand from years ago. What right did she have to feel like this?
Before she could try to parse any of the hurt and fury flooding into her chest, she was already in her rental car, pulling out of the Berans’ driveway.
“No. Never again,” she promised herself. “And don’t you dare cry.”
Revving the engine, Aubrey took herself as far away from Luke as she possibly could.
12
Three
Luke Beran sprawled on the queen-sized bed in his hotel room, bleary-eyed from lack of sleep. After running into Aubrey in the worst possible circumstances, he knew he’d make a terrible mistake.
“Fubar’d,” he muttered aloud. “Fucked it up beyond all repair, for sure.”
And yet, Luke was still trying to fix things. After Aubrey had fled the party, Luke made the decision to locate her and apologize. Maybe if he did a good enough job, Aubrey might forgive him. And if he pulled out all the stops and charmed the shit out of her, maybe she’d consider more than forgiveness. She might, say, come back to his hotel room and rock his world like she had the last time.
“You fucking wish, asshole,” he groaned to himself.
He was running on pure luck and brain fumes at this point. If he wasn’t such a curious fucker to begin with, something that usually got him shit tons of trouble, he wouldn’t even have Aubrey’s full name. When they’d spent that weekend together in San Diego in 2012, he’d been half in love with her and hadn’t even known it. What a blow it had been to get out of the shower, planning just what he’d say to convince her to give him a shot, how he’d ask her to wait for him to come back from his latest deployment.
How the hell could Luke track down and beg her for more than a lost weekend when he didn’t even know her last name?
As he’d dragged his sorry ass through the lobby, a thundercloud of rejection hanging over his head, he’d stopped at the checkout desk. Staring at the clerk, he realized that she’d been a guest at the same hotel. Luke had bullied, bribed, and begged every person at the front desk until they’d given him the five words he so needed: Aubrey Umbridge, San Francisco, California.
After that, he’d wheedled one of the more technology-inclined members of his unit into helping him use social media to find out all he could about Ms. Aubrey Rose Umbridge. He’d watched her from afar, even saving a few of her low-res public Facebook photos to his laptop. He’d lay in his bunk every night, dreaming about getting some furlough so he could go track her down and ask her out again. Maybe get another taste of Aubrey’s lips, touch her bountiful, pale-skinned curves.
And then shit had gone sideways. After the initial Arab Spring uprisings, the Army brass had transferred Luke’s unit had been transferred to Jordan to deal with the overflow of the Syrian civil war. After a decade of service in Afghanistan and Iraq, the transition was difficult. New languages, new culture, new problems. Half their unit personnel had changed too, which meant losing contact with some of his closest and olde
st friends.
Just when Luke was settling in, an overtaxed and mentally ill private had lost his shit and shot up their own camp, killing three of Luke’s close friends and a dozen others. Luke was the one who took the twenty-year-old private down, out of the sheer shitty luck of being in the same room and having a weapon at hand.
For a long time after that, Luke hadn’t thought about much more than trying to live out the rest of his deployment without getting his ass blown up by someone, whether enemy or friend. He hadn’t forgotten Aubrey, not by a long shot, but he’d gone into a kind of mental hibernation, just focusing on survival.
So he’d done his time and left the Army behind. He’d returned to the States, and though Luke knew he was a hell of a lot safer, he didn’t feel any better. He was like a fish out of water here, and it had been a rough time.
Then he’d seen Aubrey. She looked just the same, that sweet face and fiery dark red hair, those luscious curves. His body had hardened even as his heart had flip-flopped in his chest, and for a moment he genuinely felt… hope. For the first time since he’d come home… Hell, since he’d shot that kid down in Jordan, really, he’d felt like things might turn around for him.
Aubrey had took one look at his drunk ass and the girl in his lap, who’d already promised to suck his dick later, and she’d turned tail and ran. Luke couldn’t blame her, not one bit. That didn’t mean that he was letting her go, though, not really.
Luke snapped out of his reminiscence when a car alarm went off somewhere outside his second-story hotel room. His whole body tensed, and he broke out into a fine sheen of sweat all over his body. He lay still for a couple of minutes, forcing himself to breathe deep when all he wanted to do was abandon ship. Car alarms had been a big signal of coming violence in Jordan, and their sound still chilled his blood, made him antsy.