Lilith Mercury, Werewolf Hunter Series (Boxed Set, Books 1-3)

by Tracey H. Kitts

  As I saw Marco coming back downstairs the power went out. A collective howl rose from the crowd and someone yelled, “Party!” It was the drunk DJ who then stumbled and fell from behind the platform he was on. I didn’t even want to know how much alcohol it took to get a werewolf that drunk and stupid.

  “That’s gonna leave a mark,” Marco said from behind me and I jumped.

  The lights flickered back on and he smiled. “Why don’t we go upstairs?”

  Luther took that as his cue and quickly excused himself to help the drunken werewolf with a murmured, “Vodka is a many splendored thing.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to go to the lowest level of a building during a storm like this?”

  “This building is very well reinforced and has been through several hurricanes,” he said. “Besides, I want to get a bath before the power goes out completely.”

  “Where are you going to take a bath, standing on the fire escape in the rain?” I asked sarcastically.

  “That sounds like fun,” he drawled. “But why don’t we go to my apartment?” again, he didn’t exactly ask a question.

  “You have an apartment upstairs?”

  “Right this way.”

  Marco led me up the stairs, placing his hand gently in the curve of my back. It was a subtle, but possessive gesture. The touch was intimate without being sexual, and that was what I liked about it.

  I followed him through the same red door we’d gone through before and into the second red door that led to his office. He walked over to the bookshelves behind his desk and turned to the one along the left wall.

  “You know, no one else knows how to get into my apartment.”

  “Then why are you showing me?”

  He gave me that grin again that made me glad I wasn’t a sheep.

  “Just in case you ever want to come back.”

  I watched as he lifted a copy of Call of the Wild from the shelf and pressed an indention in the wood behind it. The bookcase slid to one side to reveal a staircase.

  He motioned for me to go first, and I did so warily. When we reached the first step, I turned back. “But if no one knows how to get here—” I broke off.

  “Exactly.” He pressed another indention near the staircase. The wall began to close as he let loose an evil laugh that would have made any super villain proud. Marco laughed again at the look on my face. “Relax, I’m not going to hurt you.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “Besides, if I had any intention of abusing you, I wouldn’t have taken you up here in front of everybody.”

  “But you’re their alpha. Won’t they go along with whatever you say?”

  He sighed wearily. “I seriously doubt that Luther would stand by and let me harm you.”

  I held my ground and didn’t move another step.

  Marco sighed again as he said, “Would you prefer to stay downstairs?”

  I thought it over for a minute before answering, “No.”

  “Then follow me.”

  The top of the staircase opened directly into Marco’s living room. It was a large loft style apartment covering nearly the entire space with one expansive room. There was a half wall divider that separated the kitchen and a massive dungeon style door at the far end.

  The walls had been torn away to display the faded reddish brown brick beneath. The floor was made of old wooden planks that looked well taken care of. I had only seen windows like his in pictures before. They were made of wrought iron and consisted of at least fifty small square panes each. The glass was double paned, but had been taped over because of the storm, just in case. The color scheme matched that of his office. The windows were adorned with lush red, expensive looking drapes, each with a large golden cord to pull them shut. Tall iron candle holders were scattered about including a few candelabras, all holding soft cream colored candles. A fireplace stood near the entrance along the same wall as the hearth in his office. This one was not marble, but was made of the same brick as the walls. In front of the fireplace was an empty patch of floor that needed a rug.

  The room was divided by the placement of the furniture into three areas. The space near the fireplace had a long, dark leather sofa draped with a cream blanket that looked to be made of fur. Matching cream colored pillows were thrown at odd angles across the leather. In place of a matching chair, there was a massive scattering of faded red and gold pillows. This tied in with the piece along the mantle. There, a faded red peapod shaped basket with black iron accents held a collection of cream, brown, and gold décor balls. Beside this lay several boughs of crooked willow dyed a deep crimson, and layered with pussy willow.

  In the far left corner stood a lamp that looked like an odd flower curving over a tan suede chair and ottoman. Like the one downstairs, this chair had a crimson blanket thrown over one arm and draping over part of the floor. With its back turned to the fireplace and the small reading area, sat a blood red love seat with faded gold, almost bronze colored pillows. This area in particular drew my attention, for on the wall in a large space between the windows hung an enormous painting of me.

  I stood so that only my back and the left side of my face were visible. To my chest I clutched a long crimson piece of material which seemed to flow over the canvas. It draped around me so that my entire back could be seen, stopping just short of indecent exposure. My head was tilted slightly downward as if I were in the process of turning back to someone who stood behind me. The painting was so life-like that I expected to see myself finish that turn at any moment. A tall ornately carved candle holder stood on either side and I was tempted to light them, just to see how the painting looked with the soft illumination.

  “Do you like it?”

  Marco’s voice brought me from my reverie and I noticed that I was standing only a few feet from the painting. Glancing back, I thought it was a miracle I hadn’t tripped over the coffee table. I turned back to the painting and reached out with trembling fingers to touch the massive gold frame that held it.

  “It’s beautiful,” I breathed.

  Part of my hair was swept down and part upward, giving my image a slightly disheveled look. But the beauty in the painting was timeless. She had the same ethereal glow that I’d glimpsed through Alfred’s eyes, and a presence that made you want to fall to your knees.

  “This can’t be me,” I whispered.

  “Of course it is,” Marco answered gently from behind me.

  “But, I don’t look like this,” I said in awe.

  “Don’t you own a mirror?”

  “Yes ... but this is not what I see.”

  “You should look more closely,” Marco whispered his rough voice close to my ear.

  “I never knew you were an artist.”

  “I’m not.”

  “But ... how?”

  “Mathias. He told me where to find the canvas and what paints to buy. He said that if I would use this canvas, it would show me the deepest most intimate desires of my heart.”

  I turned to face Marco and found him only a breath away. He looked blurry and I realized that I’d been crying. I was moved beyond words.

  “What did you expect?” He smiled gently. “A plan for world domination?”

  I smiled weakly and tried to control my urge to embrace him. I didn’t love Marco, but I was really beginning to like him.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lightning split the sky and I was suddenly aware of the viciously howling wind.

  “We should hurry on that shower,” he pointed out.

  “We?”

  Marco laughed. “I didn’t mean together. Although, I’m not opposed to the idea, if you prefer.”

  I glared at him.

  “Or, maybe not,” he added.

  I followed Marco to the dungeon looking door at the far end of the loft. He swung the door open to his bedroom. My attention was immediately drawn to the gigantic four poster bed in the middle of the room. It had to be larger than a king.

  The floor around the bed was slightly raised, so that it took t
wo steps up to reach the mattress. The comforter was a magnificent scarlet embroidered with thousands of delicate gold vines. The bed was filled with pillows of all shapes and sizes in a mixture of red and gold. The massive canopy that hung over the bed was the same beautiful scarlet trimmed in gold. The bed curtains had been pulled back and tied to each of the four corners of the bed by large golden ropes.

  There was another bookshelf to the right of the bed and another door that I assumed led to his closet. When I looked to the left, I paused. Standing in the left hand corner of Marco’s bedroom was a beautiful gilded cage. There was a swing inside that looked as if it were waiting for some massive bird to perch atop it.

  “You have a cage in your bedroom?”

  “It’s just for looks,” he said with a shrug.

  “I don’t want to know,” I said quickly.

  Hearing about Marco’s sexual perversions was not the best choice of subject for me.

  “Where’s the bathroom?”

  “This way.” He motioned to the open door on the wall, past the cage.

  Marco’s bathroom was beautiful.

  “I’m impressed.” I smiled. “Most men don’t appreciate a tub like this.”

  With my last words, I walked over to the large tub that sat in the middle of the room. Like the bed, it was elevated slightly. The tub looked to be made of black marble, which matched the countertop of the double vanity to the left. In place of one long mirror above the sinks, there were two mirrors, oval shaped and ornately framed in a dark, almost black wood. The cabinets underneath the sinks, as well as the linen closet along the wall were stained a deep mahogany.

  Above the tub was a circular rod which held a beautiful red curtain. Upon closer inspection, I saw that it was silk and embroidered with many leaves and vines. Against the back wall was a walk-in shower that matched the same honey colored ceramic tiles of the floor.

  “It’s not my business, but how do you afford all of this?”

  “Well, I was a Hunter for about a year before my attack, which as you know is good money.” Marco leaned against the door frame as he continued, “I saved, invested and bought this building that has turned into a very successful club. Besides, all of this wasn’t done at once. The bathroom was only just completed this past winter.”

  “When did you open the club?”

  “About four years ago.”

  “How come I’d never heard of it?”

  “You just didn’t come to the right part of town,” he teased.

  I sat on the rim of the tub and began removing my boots.

  “Are you gonna watch?”

  The grin he gave me made me wish I hadn’t asked.

  “Never mind.” I sighed. “Forget I asked.”

  “Just inside the shower, there’s a little space where you can get undressed before stepping under the water,” he informed me.

  I looked in the shower and found what looked like a walk-in closet covered with tile. Beside the entrance there was a seat built into the wall. I started to slide my skirt down when a thought occurred to me.

  “Are you going to stay in here?”

  “If you’ll hand me your clothes, I’ll see that they’re washed.”

  That got my attention. I leaned around to look at him and found the same wolfish grin as before.

  “You expect me to hand over my clothes?”

  “Yes.” He smiled and stretched out his hand.

  I glared at him.

  “And then I’m going to light the candles.” He sighed. “And I’ll keep my distance, but I’m not leaving the room.”

  “What am I supposed to wear?”

  “I’ll find you something.” He grinned.

  My glare grew more fierce.

  “Something decent,” he added.

  “Fine, but how will I know where you are?”

  “I’ll sit in a chair beside the door.”

  “Talk to me,” I said, handing him my skirt.

  I retreated back around the corner, stripped as quickly as possible and flung my clothes out the door in Marco’s general direction. As I moved quickly behind the half wall that separated the little seat from the shower, I heard him laugh softly.

  “Don’t use all the hot water, Red.”

  After a minute or so of adjusting the water I heard the distinct sound of a zipper and a belt being unbuckled.

  “Marco,” I said, almost frantically.

  “Yes?”

  He did sound as if he was near the door and my heart slowed down just a little.

  “You’re not talking.”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “I don’t know ... What did you do after you were a Hunter?”

  “I was a shepherd.”

  “All right smartass, you pick the subject. But keep talking. I want to know where you are.”

  He sighed. “All right ... the tub.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, you mentioned most guys not liking a tub that big. It’s not that I’m a prima donna or anything. Shapeshifting can sometimes be a messy business.”

  “Gross.”

  “Hey, you said to pick a subject.”

  I opened a bottle of shampoo and breathed in Marco’s scent. Normally it would have aroused me, but tonight it was a comfort.

  “I’ve got a subject. You said before that once in a great while a wolf is born with powers like mine. When was the last time something like that happened?”

  “I honestly don’t know. It’s so rare that it’s only a legend really. For all I know, you may be the first. There’s no proof otherwise.”

  After taking a few minutes to try to digest this information I heard Marco yell from the bedroom, “Silk or satin?”

  “Silk,” I answered without thinking.

  I heard the chair move slightly and assumed he’d sat back down before I thought to add, “Marco, leave the bra out, will you?”

  “Sure, but why?”

  “I rarely sleep without one. I don’t want to wake up one morning with my breasts around my waist.”

  He laughed and it made me smile.

  “Red?”

  “Yes?”

  “There’s something I want to ask you. Now that you’ve seen the painting ... Are you afraid of me?”

  “No,” I answered as I turned off the water.

  Most people might have been frightened to know that their long time enemy had painted such an intimate portrait of them, but I wasn’t. Marco didn’t give off that obsessed lunatic vibe. Besides, after what I’d put of him in my sketchbook, I had no right to judge.

  “I’m not a psycho or anything.” As he said this his bare muscular arm reached around the corner with a towel in hand.

  “I know,” I said, snatching the towel and wrapping it around me quickly. “You’re not naked out there are you?”

  I heard a rustle of fabric before he answered, “Not anymore.”

  When I stepped out I was relieved to see him standing there in a black bathrobe that was securely tied in front. It was both a disappointment and a relief to be spared the naked sight of him. So far, I’d been on my best behavior, but there was only so much I could take.

  “I’ve laid out something for you on the bed.”

  The lights flickered again.

  “I’d better hurry,” he added.

  Marco brushed past me and a moment later I was hit in the face by his bathrobe. He was laughing when he turned on the water.

  “Hey, Red?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Before you go, run some water in the tub, just in case we’re without power for a while.”

  I left the water running and went to get dressed. Marco had left a pair of red silk pajamas on his bed with my black lace bra laid across them. As I slipped into the pajamas I could tell by their size that they were his. I rolled the top of the pants down a few times and rolled the legs up so I wouldn’t trip. I had just slid the top around my shoulders when I heard him turn off the shower. Hurriedly I buttoned the shirt, lea
ving the last few buttons open so that the unscarred part of my stomach just below the navel was revealed.

  I heard his wet feet slapping across the tile and knew that he was walking naked across the bathroom. I excused myself to the large living room so he could get dressed. But when I left, he didn’t close the door.

  As I sat among the huge pillows on the leather sofa near the fire I asked, “Why did you take me to a hotel?”

  “Huh?” I heard him stumble over something.

  “When I picked you up that night, why not bring me here?”

  “Because I wasn’t sure I could trust you.”

  “And you’re so certain now?”

  “Not really.”

  Marco emerged from the bedroom looking like a wet dream. He was wearing pajama pants that matched mine, but in place of a regular top, he wore a matching robe which hung to mid-calf. The robe was open, revealing just how well the honeyed bronze of his skin was complemented by the red. As he walked, I could see the beginnings of a tattoo that must have reached around his lower back, because it came to a downward point just above the muscular curve of his hips.

  When Marco stopped beside the couch he ran a hand through his dark wet hair and I shivered.

  “Matching pjs?” I asked.

  “It’s not like anybody’s going to see.” He smiled. “Are you hungry?”

  There was a clock on the table beside the couch, and I leaned over to look at it.

  “It’s twelve thirty,” I said dryly.

  “Haven’t you ever heard of a midnight snack?”

  Since he mentioned it, my stomach did feel kind of empty. So, I followed him to the kitchen, which was a little bigger than mine, with deep mahogany cabinets and stainless steel appliances. Above the cabinets were a variety of odd shaped vases. A table sat near the back of the room that could seat eight people. It had an odd arrangement as a centerpiece, another faded red basket in the shape of a vase filled with a bizarre assortment of willow branches, palm leaves, and various wing dings.

  He walked over to the refrigerator and pulled both doors open wide.

  “You know,” he remarked thoughtfully, “I’m pretty sure it was me that picked you up.”