by Lisa Marie
Ash had stayed with him, calling the police himself and taking Cyrus home afterwards. He had crossed a line that night without realizing it and had never once looked back.
“He was the first real friend I ever had.” His voice, thick and broken, rose over the sound of running water. Eve took a deep breath and pressed a gentle kiss against his forehead.
“I’m so sorry,” she said again, thinking how inadequate those words really were. They were like slapping a Band-Aid on a gaping wound and expecting it to staunch the flow of blood.
“Mark. Oh, God, Mark.” His shoulders started to tremble at the thought of Cyrus’ grandson.
Eve’s tears started anew. From what she understood, Mark had already lost so much.
“He’s going to die,” Ash said it with such a certainty, such a surety, that Eve shivered.
“He’ll be okay. He’s big, tough and strong,” she assured with a nod, knowing he didn’t believe her, and pretty sure that she didn’t believe it herself.
* * * *
“Seth. Run.”
Brie didn’t have time to think, just react. Her muscles screamed, but she pushed them into action and took off across the clearing, her attention fixed on the house that seemed entirely too far away. The long, mournful howl of a wolf sounded, and icy sweat broke out on her skin. She couldn’t help but keep turn her head to look behind her.
Mark ran sideways, the dart gun raised, his finger on the trigger. She had a second to marvel at how he was doing that and not falling flat on his ass. Then, with a great crash of leaves and an unbidden shriek from her throat, Seth burst through the trees. She caught a brief glimpse of a huge canine with cream and brown fur and unholy eyes, before she turned forward again and pushed herself harder. She hadn’t noticed how far the house was from the edge of the woods before, but now it seemed like a million miles. It was as if every step took her backwards instead of forward and the cabin just kept getting farther and farther away.
“Brie! Get around the car,” Mark shouted.
As quickly as she could, she scrambled to the ancient Thunderbird and ducked down behind it. She glanced over the hood in time to see Mark stop to fire at the charging animal and miss.
“Fuck,” Mark roared.
In the precious seconds it took him to get the gun ready to fire again, Seth was on him. The gun landed hard on the ground a few feet in front of the car, but Brie was too busy watching Mark try to fend off the big wolf to even think about grabbing it.
“Mark!” she screamed, rising half out of her crouched position.
She watched in wide-eyed horror as Seth’s teeth ripped into the leather covered arm that Mark held up to protect his face. Bile rose up in her throat when she saw blood. Somehow, Mark managed to get a foot up between them, and with a wrenching kick, he sent the wolf flying off of him. He barely rolled over to grab for the gun before the wolf was on him again. One hand came up to protect his neck, while he tried to use the elbow of his other arm—the arm that was bleeding from the first attack—to knock Seth off.
As if out of nowhere, a knife slid out of the sleeve of his duster, and Mark’s hand curled around it. The angle was awkward, but he managed to plunge the razor sharp steel into the side of the wolf. Seth howled in pain and jumped away, blood spurting in every direction. The loss of the weight on his back gave Mark a chance to roll up onto his feet. They faced off, the snarling, snapping wolf and the equally menacing man.
The moonlight fell on the pair like an ethereal spotlight, the clearing a makeshift arena for the battle in progress. The sight of Mark, rising tall and just as feral as the werewolf, had a strange thrill shooting through Brie. He was crouched low, his bloody hand clutching the knife close to his body for better control. His teeth were bared in a vicious growl, his usually sleek hair in wild disarray around his shoulders. The grace with which he moved to sidestep the lunging wolf held her transfixed, the ease in which he swirled to face the demon beast electrifying. It finally hit home how dangerous a man he really was. And just how good at his job he must be.
Brianne’s heart thudded erratically in her chest, and she had the clarity of knowing that this wouldn’t end until one of them was dead. The thought that it might be Mark pushed her from her hiding place and scrambling for the gun. Seth’s head turned in her direction. She froze when his devilish eyes landed on her. Her hand hovered just over the gun, and she knew the second that Seth decided she would be the easier prey of the two. She screamed again as the large wolf tensed to spring, but Mark reacted quicker.
“Hey!” he yelled, his voice a deep, echoing bellow in the darkness. He pounced on the beast, diverting his attention from Brie, but putting himself back in the middle of a wrestling match he couldn’t win. “Get the gun!”
She didn’t have to be told twice. With trembling hands, she seized the dart gun and raised it up to aim. She had no idea how to shoot it and she could only hope that there was a dart in the chamber as she tried to get a clear shot on Seth. They were a writhing mass of fur and leather and it was hard for her to be confident when to shoot.
“Shoot him, God dammit!”
She jumped at Mark’s command and raised the gun higher. “I can’t get a shot,” Brie screamed back, her voice desperate.
She was shaking so bad, she wasn’t sure if she would be able to hit the wolf even if she could get the shot. Then, with a Herculean shove, the wolf was off of Mark and landing a good ten feet away. Brie took a precious second to make sure she was at least pointing the gun in the right direction, and with her eyes squeezed shut, pulled the trigger. It amazed her that while the gun didn’t make much noise, the kickback of the weapon managed to make her stumble back a step. She waited, eyes still shut, to hear movement of some kind.
“Did I get him?” she asked tentatively, when she didn’t hear anything.
“Yeah.”
Her eyes snapped open as soon as Mark answered and the gun hit the ground with a thud as she hurried over to him. He had managed to make it up to his knees, but was bracing himself up with his good arm. His dark eyes were trained on the prone wolf, his aching body tensed to strike him down again if necessary.
“Let me see,” Brie demanded as she landed in the soft grass beside him. Without thought, she grasped his injured arm and pulled it gently towards her.
Mark was so surprised by her touch that he let her, staring quizzically at the top of her bent head.
Carefully, she pushed the torn leather out of the way to inspect the equally torn flesh underneath. She grimaced at the site of the deep gashes, but was glad to see that the flesh was sliced cleanly and not mangled. He moved his fingers when she demanded it, so she hoped that was a good sign of no muscle or nerve damage.
“We need to get this dressed. Are you hurt anywhere else?” She started to run her hands over his shoulders, touching his neck and gasping when she saw the claw marks on his chest and stomach from where his duster had fallen open. His shirt was shredded, but thankfully the scratches appeared to be shallow.
The oddest of feelings spread through Mark as she fussed over his wounds. He’d had worse injuries. He knew it. But the way she was checking him over, making sure he was all right gave him a warm feeling. Then a vivid, painful image of his mother, tending to a scraped knee when he had fallen off of his bike, rose up in his mind. He blinked back unwanted tears and jerked his arm out of Brie’s hand.
“We need to get him inside,” he mumbled, getting to his feet.
He hesitated before walking over to the unconscious wolf because he felt a little woozy from his adrenalin crash. At least, that’s what he told himself. No way was he admitting it might have something to do with the hurt he saw in her face thanks to the moon overhead.
“He’ll be dust when the sun comes up. We need to get him into the cage,” he said, kneeling down and looking at the gash in Seth’s side. He had apparently fed pretty well over the last day or so, because the edges had already knitted together and Mark decided there would be no need to stitch it.
“Could you help me?”
Brie looked at the proud set of his face and felt a pull at her heart. She didn’t understand where these strange feelings were coming from, especially since Mark did nothing at all to encourage them. In fact, everything he did or said seemed strictly to annoy her. But then she would see a flash of vulnerability in his hard features and her heart would expand in her chest. This was not the way someone felt about a near stranger, but it was there nonetheless.
“Sure.” She pushed to her feet and ignored her shaking muscles. She had a feeling she was in for a world of hurt tomorrow and thought that a hot bath would definitely be on the agenda.
It wasn’t easy moving Seth, since Mark’s arm burned like fire and he couldn’t really use it. Brie struggled under the massive weight, but she managed not to lose her grip as they moved across the remainder of the yard, up the stairs and into the house. How they got him through the house without knocking anything over was a miracle. As quickly as they could accomplish, Seth was in his cage and Mark was snapping the heavy padlock closed.
Brie wiped her hands on her jeans-clad thighs and resisted the urge to walk up behind Mark and wrap her arms around him. She knew that such a thing would be unwelcome and she wasn’t up to another round of rejection. “I’m going to find some bandages,” she told him instead, and hastily left the room for the safety of the bathroom.
Mark rested a hand on the bars and leaned his forehead against it. If this hadn’t been one royally fucked up day, he didn’t know what was. He looked down at Seth peacefully sleeping, and felt a stab of envy. There were none of life’s usual worries going on in the werewolf/vampire’s brain right now. None of the things that caused Seth pain or grief could penetrate the haze of instinct he lived in when he was in his wolf form. Tomorrow, when the rising sun would break the curse for another month, every reason that made Seth hide on top of this mountain, alone, would come back with full clarity and bring with it the guilt and pain.
But that was tomorrow. Tonight, he was nothing more than a caged wolf, fast asleep. Mark would have traded places with him in a heartbeat.
“See you in the morning, Seth. Gonna pay for the chunk you took out of this coat,” he told the sleeping wolf, making sure the curtains were drawn on the windows before leaving the room. He closed the door with a quiet click and sighed. He was suddenly so tired he didn’t think that he would be able to stand much longer. The roller coaster of a day was swiftly catching up with him.
“I got the bandages.”
Brie’s voice had him lifting his head. He was starting to get used to the way his body reacted to her every time he looked at her, but he didn’t think he’d ever seen her look quite this beautiful. Her hair was sticking out from her head, matted with dirt and leaves. Her face was covered with scratches and mud and her clothes were tattered and torn from her reckless trek through the forest. Her skin was pale and her vibrant eyes were shadowed. None of it detracted from the beauty lurking beneath. Amazingly, it enhanced it.
“Thank you.” He saw her eyes widen and knew that she expected him to yell at her. He had fully intended to. Right now, he was just too tired. If he hadn’t been such an ass the night before, they would never have been out there at sunset, or for that matter at all.
Mark offered her a tired smile, which had her eyes widening even more, and he moved around her. “Go get cleaned up. I can do this.”
She followed him out to the living room, doubt written over her face. He shed his duster, flinching in pain as he peeled the leather away from his wounded arm.
“Are you sure?” Brie asked.
He tossed the duster on the arm of the chair and sat down on the couch before answering.
“Yeah.”
She set the bandages and antiseptic on the table, but hesitated a second longer when he tried to open the bottle with his left hand. She didn’t turn to leave until he looked up at her, a jet black brow arched in question.
“If you need help…” She trailed off as she paused at the bedroom door, looking back at him to see him lighting a cigarette. He waved the hand holding the cigarette and nodded, but didn’t turn to look at her.
With little else to do, Brie went into the bedroom to get clean clothes to take a bath. She walked around the room, gathering her things and feeling completely confused.
Why wasn’t Mark yelling at her? He had been almost … nice. Maybe this was one of his mood swings and when she got out of the bathroom he would be back to his surly old self. Maybe he was tired. It had to take a lot out of a person to wrestle a full-grown werewolf that happened to have the added strength of a vampire. She felt like she should be out there, helping him, despite the way they had parted last night. She wondered if they would ever get around to talking about that, or if it would hang between them, like a curtain made of steel.
A cool breeze blew through the open window, causing her to shiver. Shaking off thoughts of the man in the living room, she walked over to close it. After all, she had no desire to wake up to a tree gnome in her bed. She glanced down at the nightstand as she reached for the sash, her hand pausing in mid air. A cold, congealed plate of bacon and eggs rested on the ledge. It occurred to her that Mark had cooked and brought her a plate. She really didn’t have any way of knowing for sure that’s actually what he had done. For all she knew, he had made it for himself and brought it in here to eat and found her missing. Only that didn’t seem right. And the fact that she was seeing his efforts to cook for her as a white flag from him had little warning bells going off in her brain.
Before she realized what she was doing, Brie turned away from the open window and walked back out into the living room, still clutching her clothes. She paused at the edge of the hall, her heart hammering inexplicably in her chest.
Mark leaned back against the couch, a cigarette smoldering in his hand, his arm no closer to being bandaged than it had been when she’d left. He turned his head and looked at her, brows drawing together over his dark eyes.
“I thought you were going to take a bath.” He grimaced as he leaned forward to snub out the cigarette.
“You cooked for me.”
She sounded so full of wonder and confusion that he felt suddenly reserved. He shrugged a shoulder, and spent entirely too much time making sure that his cigarette was completely out.
“Yeah, well … thought you might be hungry. ‘Course, it’s all cold now.” He shot her an accusatory glance, but it didn’t really hold any heat.
Brianne’s gaze never left his face as she walked further into the room. He jerked back when she moved between him and the coffee table and sat down, their bodies close enough that their knees banged together.
“What?” he growled when she continued to look at him like he was a puzzle in desperate need of solving.
“Thank you.”
“It was just breakfast.” He tried to shrug again, but her hand shot out and cupped his jaw, making him go completely still. Every nerve seemed to electrify with her touch and it became nearly impossible to breathe.
“I think it was more than that.” Her thumb stroked the line of his jaw, the roughness of stubble on her skin making her tremble. She looked deeply into his eyes and got lost in the bottomless black of them. His gaze was guarded, like he was afraid to let her see whatever it was inside him. She had seen his vulnerability the night before, and it was that she was remembering right now, not his harsh words.
“Brie … I…” He didn’t know what he wanted to say. He just felt a desperate need to break the gossamer tension that was weaving its way around them, before they got much more than they had bargained for.
“What?”
Brie’s voice was caught somewhere between a sigh and a moan and Mark’s body hardened as he imagined her saying his name, in just the same way. He wanted her so badly it was like a living thing crawling through him. If he was in the mood to lie to himself, he would have said that it was because she was a Siren. She had somehow sung without him noticing and put him under her spell. But
right here, right now, staring into the most amazing eyes he had ever seen, lying to himself was not an option. His need for her had nothing to do with what she was. It was her, pure and simple.
“God, I want to kiss you.”
The words came out on a rush of breath and the look on his face told her that they had not been what he had intended to say. It was a harsh whisper full of need and raw hunger. It turned her knees to water and her heart to mush. She closed her eyes in anticipation, her lips parting slightly in invitation. She heard Mark moan in the instant before his warm, demanding mouth covered hers, and sweet relief that he was kissing her exploded in her veins.
Chapter Fifteen
There was no way in hell Mark would have ever been able to resist the temptation of Brianne’s parted lips. They were sweet and full and soft under his. The clothes she had been holding hit the floor with a soft thud and her hands came up to grip the remains of his T-shirt. Her mouth opened under his, their tongues sliding against each other in a slow, teasing dance. His hand buried in her hair, long, strong fingers closing over her skull to hold her close. She wanted to get closer, needed it like she needed air to breathe. Instinct had her hand sliding under the tattered cotton of his shirt and gliding along the flesh. She felt Mark’s intake of breath, even as he deepened the kiss. The hand in her hair tensed, gently pulling the soft tresses.
He felt so good under her palms. The muscles of his chest and stomach rippled under her touch, his knee jerked against hers when her nails grazed lightly over his nipples.
“Jesus, Brie,” he gasped, pulling away from her to rest his forehead against hers. “What the hell are you doing to me?”
Their eyes locked in the brief instant that she thought Mark was accusing her of something. But all she saw in his pitch eyes was desire and heat, both scalding her with their intensity. She raised her head and brushed her lips across his in a whisper of a kiss, delighting in the feel of how their mouths molded together. Her hands roamed over any inch of exposed skin she could find, his neck, his face, his arms. When her fingers brushed over his wound, he hissed in pain.