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

by Tracey H. Kitts

  I pulled his mouth away from my breast and he gasped. “What’s wrong?”

  “We have all day to take our time.”

  “Are you trying to say you don’t like foreplay?”

  “I’m trying to say that when I’m starving, I’m not much for appetizers.”

  With those words Alfred loosened his grip on me, allowing my body to slide down the tile, and directly onto his rock hard erection. I moaned as I wrapped myself more tightly around him.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Will you stop worrying about breaking me?” I teased.

  “I just don’t want to hurt you,” he said softly as he pressed me more firmly against the tile.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck, sliding the front of my wet body along his as I purred, “I’ll let you know if anything hurts.”

  Alfred wrapped his hands around my back and I whispered, “No, let me.”

  I braced my left hand against the wall and held on tightly with my right arm around his neck. Slowly, I began to grind my hips against him as I slid up and down his body.

  My thighs clamped tightly around his hips as I bucked and arched against him.

  “Cazzo,” he panted. (Holy shit.) “I should have come home sooner.”

  “It’s lucky you came when you did,” I growled.

  Alfred laughed as he pressed me back into the tile again.

  “My turn,” he said lustfully.

  Alfred seemed to have given up his concern about breaking me and I held on for dear life thinking at any minute we were going to crack the tile. It didn’t take much persuasion for me to relinquish what little control I had. Once again, I lost all sense of time and place. I felt myself griping Alfred’s shoulders and my last coherent thought was, “I hope I don’t scratch him too badly.”

  The next thing I knew, water misted across my face and I blinked as it hit my eyelashes. My face was pressed into the curve of Alfred’s neck. I could feel his heartbeat against my forehead and knew by its furious pounding that I hadn’t been out for very long. If it were not for his hold on me, I’m certain I would have fallen.

  “I thought we were going to take a shower,” he mumbled against my hair.

  I laughed weakly as I replied, “That reminds me, what kind of conditioner do you use?”

  The feel of Alfred’s silken hair between my fingers had been sorely missed. I remembered several months ago, before he left, laughing to myself at the thought of asking him what conditioner he used.

  “What?” He laughed.

  “Well, when you mentioned taking a shower, I remembered I wanted to know what conditioner you use.” I lifted my head to look at him and found it took a great deal more effort than I anticipated. “Your hair is always so soft,” I explained.

  He smiled gently and cradled the side of my face with one hand. “Are you all right?”

  “Jackass.” I laughed as I pushed away from him.

  Alfred held onto my waist as he stepped back enough so I could slide to the floor. I found it difficult to stand and was relieved when he offered to wash my hair. Alfred turned me to face the water. I leaned forward and propped my hands against the wall while he lathered up my hair. He reached around and handed me a bottle of conditioner. I recognized the bottle as a specialty brand from the local salon.

  “Too good for over the counter products?” I teased.

  “How do you think my hair stays so soft?” he said smoothly.

  I laughed and handed him the bottle. He tilted me back so that my head rested against his chest while he rinsed my hair. I breathed deeply of the familiar scent I had come to associate with Alfred while he applied the conditioner to my hair.

  “I’m exhausted,” I moaned.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Asshole,” I teased, but I knew I had it coming to me.

  Alfred washed me from head to toe and I reclined across the top of the large tile steps while he finished up. It was then that I noticed the bandage on my arm, and decided I should remove it.

  “Oh, I meant to take that off,” Alfred said as I peeled back the tape.

  “It’s all right.”

  But what I saw was not all right. The wounds I received the night before should not have been healed for another week at least. Considering how deep they were, maybe even a week and a half to be completely healed. All that remained of the vicious bite was faintly pink circles where the large teeth had punctured my skin. The bruising that was there a few hours ago had now completely faded and it frightened me. I’d never complained about recovering quickly from an injury before. But, this was not normal, even for me.

  “How’s it look?” Alfred asked.

  “It’s healed,” I said softly.

  He turned back to face me. “What?”

  I held up my forearm so he could see all that remained of the marks.

  “But, that’s not possible.”

  Alfred knelt before me in the shower and examined my arm, turning it from side to side with a shocked expression.

  “What did you do exactly while I was gone?” he asked.

  There was no way around it; I was going to have to tell him about Mathias, because what just happened was not explainable otherwise. I took a deep breath and launched into my story. I said Kat had wanted to go out, and we’d ended up at Marco’s club, where he had given me this journal.

  “What has a journal got to do with your arm, and why the hell were you talking to Marco Barak?”

  “Will you let me explain first?” I sighed. “Apparently, Marco is quite the collector of history and old books. He came across this particular book while he was in London about a year ago.”

  Alfred looked pissed and I knew I needed to get to the point. “How much do you know about the wizard Mathias Alexander?”

  “The Seducer? But what has he—”

  “He was my great, great grandfather. It was his journal Marco found. That’s why I was talking to him.”

  “The voice of seduction,” Alfred mumbled.

  “You’ve heard of it?”

  “It was before my time, but I thought people who mentioned it were just full of shit. You inherited his power? How?”

  I proceeded to explain to Alfred as best I could everything that had transpired between Mathias and myself.

  “So, how did Marco know to give the journal to you?”

  “It told him to.”

  “It what?”

  As I tried my best to explain how the journal worked, I could feel myself beginning to lose focus. I must have looked bad because Alfred knew with a glance that I was growing faint.

  “Come on.” He scooped me up. “You can tell me the rest later, you need to eat something.”

  I rested my head against Alfred’s shoulder while he dried us both and wrapped me in his dark brown bathrobe. He carried me to the bed and I sprawled face down across the comforter. I lay there while Alfred went to get something from the kitchen. It had been nearly eighteen hours since I had anything to eat. With my metabolism, it was a miracle I hadn’t already become nauseous.

  He brought back a bowl of cherries, and I nibbled at the fruit while he dried my hair.

  “So, what do you think the voice has to do with you healing so quickly?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll have to ask him.”

  “Ask him? You’re going to ask a dead wizard for advice?”

  “Sure.” I shrugged. “I do it all the time.”

  I explained to Alfred that no matter what page I turned to, the journal had a way of answering my questions.

  “I had no idea,” he said. “Alexander really was as powerful as everyone said. He must have seen your whole life to be able to answer your every question.”

  “That’s the conclusion I’ve come to.”

  “Will you tell Jacob?” he asked as he put the blow dryer away.

  “I don’t think so. There’s no reason in particular I’ve been keeping it to myself ... I just don’t particularly want everyone to know.�
�

  “So, who does know?”

  “You and Kat. Oh, and Marco because he found the journal first.”

  I left Richard out since he and Alfred didn’t get along too well. It wasn’t likely they would have a conversation about Mathias or anything else. Besides, any secret I had was safe with Richard.

  “Did it speak to him, other than to say he needed to give the book to you?”

  “It did, but I don’t know what Mathias said. When I asked him he told me that what he had to share with me would never be seen by anyone else, no matter how many times they read his journal.”

  “Fascinating,” he replied as he started looking through the cherries.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Looking for a cherry.”

  “Alfred, they’re all cherries,” I said sarcastically.

  “I don’t like them too ripe.”

  “Are you trying to say that you don’t like old cherries?”

  He laughed.

  “I would ask to see the journal, but I don’t suppose it would do me any good. And what exactly do you mean when you say you asked him? Mathias is dead, isn’t he?”

  “Not completely, no. When his power was transferred to me, he became a part of me.”

  “Run that past me again.”

  “A part of his consciousness still lives somewhere in the back of my mind and I can contact him through meditation.”

  I expected Alfred to tell me I was schizophrenic and that the voice in my head couldn’t possibly be a long dead ancestor. Instead he just nodded thoughtfully and kept looking for the perfect cherry.

  “The ones with the lighter color are still crunchy,” I informed him.

  “Isn’t this supposed to be where you tell me something ridiculously obscene, like the darker the berry, the sweeter the juice?” he said with a grin.

  “Nah, I figured that line was too cliché.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “Tired,” I yawned.

  He sat the bowl with its few remaining cherries on the table by the bed and stretched back across the pillows.

  “Come here,” he said softly.

  I snuggled against Alfred’s side and would have fallen instantly asleep, except for the fact that he kept talking.

  “I wouldn’t worry about your arm,” he said.

  “Hmm?” I mumbled sleepily.

  “Your arm. Whatever happened can’t be bad. I mean, we’re both unharmed.”

  “That sounds reasonable.” I yawned loudly.

  “I know you’re fading fast,” Alfred said as he tousled my hair, “But I wanted to tell you not to worry about contacting Mathias Alexander, or anyone else for a few days.”

  “A few days?”

  “Yes. I wasn’t kidding when I said that to Kathryn. There’s nothing either of us needs to do that can’t wait for a few days.”

  “I feel like I could sleep for a few days.” I yawned again.

  “Then I won’t keep you awake any longer, cara mia,” he whispered as he kissed the top of my head.

  “Good, cause I was just about to tell you to shut up.”

  “Sono il tuo schiavo,” he drawled. (I am your slave.)

  “Promises, promises,” I teased.

  Chapter Eleven

  I slept more soundly over the next few hours than I had in weeks. In Alfred’s embrace I found a peace I had been missing, and a comfort I had longed for. As I woke to the sound of his heartbeat underneath my ear I sighed contentedly. I had almost forgotten how safe I felt when I was with Alfred. He was my refuge. If I had a protector it was Alfred, not Marco, or Bade, or anyone else. No matter how much I regretted any pain I might have caused Marco, I was not his to protect. I belonged to Alfred. I suppose I always had. His hair was the ebony silk I remembered and I watched as it slipped from my fingertips. I was afraid things would change between us, but I didn’t feel any different watching him sleep that afternoon.

  Alfred had come into my life when I was only ten years old. I realized that I didn’t feel different, because I had always adored him. He had been kind to the child that I was and tender with the woman I had become. It seemed only natural that he should be my lover. Maybe everyone in town was onto something after all.

  In the few moments before he awoke I reflected back on the events of the morning. Being with Alfred was incredible. The thrill of a first experience combined with that comfortable feeling of an old lover, who knows you so well. It was the best sex I’d ever had.

  He was the only person I trusted completely with my well-being, other than my father. But there were still some things I kept to myself. It wasn’t that Alfred was untrustworthy, I just didn’t want to change the way he looked at me. I’d never had a gentleman look at me the way Alfred did and I didn’t want to ruin it. Truthfully, I’d never met another gentleman, except maybe Richard.

  I felt better after we made love. It felt as if that act had helped me to finally make up my mind. For a time I was confused, but I couldn’t pretend to misinterpret my feelings for Alfred any longer. The last time I allowed myself to love someone, it was a mistake. But nothing had ever felt more right than loving Alfred.

  Years ago I heard a woman with several children say that pregnancy is different every time. You never know how you will react. Love is like that too. It doesn’t mean you love someone more or less than someone else, but it’s always different. Each time is unique, and all worth the experience.

  Alfred stirred slightly and I watched his long lashes flutter before his dark eyes looked at me.

  “Such a serious face,” he whispered, as he caressed my cheek.

  “I was just thinking.”

  “Don’t think such thoughts so soon after great sex,” he teased.

  I laughed. “Is that your own brand of philosophy, or just an Italian thing?”

  He stretched and scooted down the pillows as he answered, “A little of both, I think.”

  I flopped onto my back and my stomach growled again.

  “If you wanted to keep me barefoot and in the kitchen, you could have just asked,” he said.

  “Yep, that’s what I want. Now get in the kitchen and make me a sandwich, bitch.”

  It’s lucky I have such quick reflexes or I would never have been able to beat Alfred to the bathroom. I jumped off the bed, laughing maniacally and ran for the door with him right on my heels.

  “You’d better lock the door.” He laughed as I slammed the door in his face still cackling with laughter.

  When I walked back out a few minutes later, I was surprised that Alfred wasn’t waiting around the corner to ambush me. The biggest surprise? He was cooking. I had the most unreal craving for seafood, but wasn’t about to speak a preference since he was cooking, and I wasn’t. As I entered the kitchen, I stopped in the doorway and just stared. Alfred looked good in the long black bathrobe he wore, but that was not what caught my attention.

  “What? You’ve never seen a fish before?” Alfred asked sarcastically.

  “How did you know I was craving seafood?”

  “Actually, I was craving seafood, so don’t think I’m cooking this just because you like salmon.” He paused. “Am I cooking this just because you like salmon?”

  “Maybe.” I smiled.

  “There’s more you haven’t told me, isn’t there?”

  “About what?” I asked innocently.

  “About The Seducer and his power.”

  Since Alfred cooked more often than I did, I’d let him pick out the appliances. Half of the surface of our stove was a grill where he placed the salmon while I talked. I explained to Alfred about Mathias’ warning to me. About how I had the ability through sex when combined with an emotional connection to take on the characteristics of other people.

  “He said it could be that I would find interest in things they liked that I’d never cared for, like a favorite book. Or, I could start to like their favorite foods.”

  Alfred had taken out a bottle of wine. He always drank when he cooke
d and had nearly choked with my last words.

  “Do you think that could work both ways?” he asked.

  “Quite possibly. According to Mathias, it doesn’t always happen. Sometimes, it may be subtle or very noticeable. It all depends on the person and how much of a connection you have with them.”

  “I see. Are these,” he seemed to be searching for the right word, “effects permanent?”

  “They can be, or it could be just a passing thing.” I sat down at the table and crossed my legs underneath me. “Do you remember when I was dating Bradley?”

  Alfred had turned back to the stove, but I could still tell he flinched before answering, “Yes.”

  “Well, he liked to read books that really weren’t my thing. While we were seeing each other, I started to like some of the same things. But after it was over, I did my best to cut off any connection I’d ever had with him. Without knowing what I was doing at the time, I severed our psychic bond. Anything I’ve ever picked up from anyone else must have just gradually faded, or been nonexistent.”

  Alfred poured himself another glass of wine as he turned to me and propped against the counter. “So, let me get this straight. You are capable of picking up bits and pieces of the personalities of the people that you have intimate contact with?”

  “Yes.”

  “And in some cases, they may experience this also?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you remain ... basically the same? I mean, it doesn’t change who you are?”

  “Right. Your basic personality can never be altered. But ...”

  “But what?”

  “Mathias said that I should be careful, because there are ‘worse things than craving onions instead of candy.’”

  “Shit.” He took another sip of wine and said, “Well, at least you’re not dating a loser like Bradley anymore.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  Alfred turned his back to me and began taking other ingredients down from the cabinet. I slid quietly out of my chair and wrapped my arms around his waist, resting my face against his back.

  “But, how do I know you aren’t secretly some diabolical fiend that with enough contact might forever change me?”

  He laughed as I slipped one hand inside his robe. “You have already changed me,” he said as he turned in my arms to face me. “But I guess this means no more one night stands for you.” He winked.