Sundown, International: Duty & the Beast

by Cat Marsters

  She had her teeth in his throat before his scent registered in her brain.

  Finn.

  Chapter Six

  Finn’s head was bloody killing him. Come to think of it, so was his throat. And his chest. And… well, all of him.

  Glad his Elf body had accelerated healing, he lay there and tried to remember what the hell had happened to get him in such a state that he felt as if his throat had been ripped out. He’d driven out to a clothes shop that had just closed and charmed the owner into reopening so he could buy some replacement clothes for Sofie. Then he’d come home, built up a fire, and sat waiting for her.

  When she still hadn’t come home by the early hours, he’d gone out to look for her.

  He winced. Apparently he’d found her. Or more accurately, she’d found him.

  He became aware of her voice in the background, apparently talking on the phone. So she was back to human then. She sounded pretty agitated as she whispered and muttered to someone down the phone line.

  “…theoretically though, if a werewolf were to bite someone, and they didn’t die, then what would happen to them?… No, of course I didn’t, Magda. There’s no such thing as werewolves.”

  Finn hid a grin. Yep, sure, no such thing.

  “The Nile is a river in Egypt, don’t be ridiculous… Well, it’s a bad pun. Magda, tell me. Just humor me. What would happen?”

  There was a pause.

  “Are you sure?”

  Finn risked cracking his eyes open.

  He was very glad he had.

  Sofie paced the room completely naked. She was dirty, her hands and feet scratched and muddy, her hair full of leaves and twigs, like a mad blonde cloud around her head. She was scowling, her eyes pink and her cheeks wet, chewing on one nail as she stomped around, listening to her cousin on the phone. Her legs were as lean, her breasts as round and high, her waist just as sweet as he’d imagined.

  She was the most glorious thing he’d ever seen.

  All right, so she was madder than a sack of cats if she didn’t believe in werewolves at the same time she was one, but she was glorious all the same. Finn was partial to a bit of insanity anyway. It made things more interesting.

  “Magda,” she was whispering now, casting a fearful glance in Finn’s direction, “would it make any difference if he was a -- he says he’s a… an Elf?”

  Finn wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard peals of laughter coming from the phone.

  Sofie scowled harder.

  “Of course there’s no such thing --” she began, then gave a little gasp. “No, I have not,” she said, glancing at Finn again in a way that made him acutely aware of being naked under the duvet. “But listen, you’re sure he’s not going to… you know. I mean, this is all complete conjecture, of course, because there’s no such thing as --” She was interrupted again. “It’s a theoretical question, Magda!” she snarled.

  Finn couldn’t quite hide a smile. Sofie noticed, and quickly ended the call, Magda’s laughter echoing in the air.

  Sofie put the phone down on the dresser and came over to the bed. She was hesitant, almost shy, although it didn’t appear to be because she was naked.

  Finn considered this. A woman like Sofie would probably feel far more naked if someone knew the truth about her than she would if all her clothes were off.

  He liked that about her. For one thing, it gave him ample opportunity to view her lean, strong body. Her skin was pale under all the dirt, her muscles honed -- from plenty of racing about howling at the moon, he presumed -- her breasts small and high, her legs long and strong. Dark blonde hair curled between her thighs. She was a real blonde!

  He lifted his gaze to her face. A real blonde with tears shining in her eyes, looking more vulnerable than he’d have thought possible for a woman capable of ripping out a grown man’s throat.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, and his heart turned over.

  “It’s all right,” he told her, reaching for her hand. “I’m okay. Elves heal fast.”

  “I could have killed you.”

  “But you didn’t. See?” He touched his free hand to the side of his neck and winced. “Actually, ow, that bloody hurts. But look, still alive.”

  He gave her a bright smile, and she attempted to return it, her lips trembling.

  Then she lost it, and her face crumpled.

  “Hey, don’t cry,” Finn said, alarmed, and pulled her onto the bed with him to cuddle her. It was probably the first time in his excessively long life that he’d pulled a naked girl into bed with platonic intentions, but Sofie was introducing him to a world of firsts.

  She cried broken-heartedly for about three minutes, then lay quietly for a few more. He stroked her hair, and started to become aware of the fact that only a duvet separated her naked body from his.

  His noble intentions started to waver.

  “God, my hair’s a mess,” she said, apropos of nothing, and Finn felt a bubble of laughter inside him.

  “You’re fantastic,” he said.

  “No, I’m insane.”

  “Yeah,” he said fondly, “just a little bit.”

  She smiled at that, then laughed, lifting her head and kissing his cheek.

  Her lips were very soft. Electricity arced through Finn’s body, and he told himself sternly to cut it out. Sofie was immune to his pheromones, and she was extremely vulnerable right now, so he’d be a complete dog to even think about seducing her.

  But dammit, he liked thinking about it.

  Especially since Sofie hadn’t moved her head away after she kissed his face. Her breath feathered his cheek. He could feel her heart pounding through the duvet.

  He moved his head just a fraction, and so did she, and he honestly wasn’t sure if she kissed his mouth or he kissed hers, but the brush of her lips over his had him completely stunned. Then she ran her tongue over the seam of his lips and all his senses came screaming to life.

  Completely unable to help himself, he kissed her back, wrapping his arms around her, sliding one hand up her spine and feeling her shiver as he caressed the back of her neck. His intention to tangle his fingers in her hair was thwarted however, by the bird’s nest of twigs and leaves he encountered. His fingers got stuck and he tugged, wincing. Way to go, Finn.

  And Sofie laughed.

  “I really need a shower,” she said against his mouth.

  “Mmm, no, I like you dirty,” he said, disentangling his hand. “Just remind me not to try that again until you’ve been near a hairbrush.”

  “It’s always hell on my hair,” she muttered, and he could see her mind sliding away to that place she seemed to live in where werewolves weren’t real. And that place sucked, so he kissed her again to bring her back to the real world.

  She kissed back.

  His neck and his chest were still tender, still healing, but he didn’t hesitate in pushing the duvet away so they could lie skin-to-skin. Sofie’s body was so hot, her skin so smooth, but she was incredibly tense, her muscles tight as he caressed her back. She was trembling.

  He tried to work out reasons why she might be trembling -- he figured it was something to do with the shattering of her carefully constructed wall of denial -- but his mind was far too fogged by the wonderful sensation of her body pressed close to his, her legs and her hips against his, her breasts against his chest.

  He rolled her onto her back and pulled back to look at her, pale skin flushed, chest heaving.

  Her nipples were tight and pink, and he rubbed his thumb over one of them. She sucked in a sharp breath, and he smiled. He loved to watch a woman react. Loved finding out what made her gasp, what made her moan, what made her cry out. And he loved doing those things even more.

  He palmed her breasts, stroking his thumb in circles around her nipple. Her breath came shallow and she watched his every movement, which he liked. Liked that she didn’t just close her eyes and let him. Liked that she was involved.

  She looked fascinated.

  He came bac
k to her mouth and kissed her some more while he stroked her breasts. Her body shifted, undulating against him, but when her stomach brushed against his cock she froze, just for a second.

  Her eyes widened.

  Finn smiled against her mouth. Now that was a reaction he really liked.

  He moved his hips, sliding his cock between her legs, feeling the slick heat of her pussy against his flesh. Sofie seemed to have stopped breathing as he stroked her like that, not entering, just rubbing back and forth.

  His cock throbbed. Damn, she really was wet. When his cock slid against her clit, she bit down on his tongue. Finn yelped and jumped back.

  “Ow,” he said thickly, tasting blood.

  “Oh God,” she looked mortified, “I’m sorry. I --”

  He put a finger over her lips. Her pink, plump, swollen, damp lips. Damn, he’d have to exercise caution if she ever put that mouth near his cock.

  Her mouth and his cock. Oh God. Those lips and that agile tongue…

  Well, hell. He healed quickly and pain came with pleasure, after all.

  “Finn,” her eyes were big and blue and full of remorse, “I’m really sorry…”

  “It’s all right,” he told her, and nipped her lip in retaliation. “It doethn’t really hurt. I mean, doesn’t.”

  Her eyes narrowed as she realized he was joking. “Be nice, or I’ll do it harder next time,” she said.

  “Sweetheart, you can do whatever you want as hard as you want,” he said, and thrust his hips against hers, making her eyes roll back in her head. “Whenever you want.”

  “What if I want to do this?” she said, and flipped him over onto his back. Damn, she was strong -- but then werewolves tended to be.

  I’m in bed with a werewolf, Finn thought dazedly as she nuzzled his neck. If I wasn’t an Elf, she could kill me.

  Her tongue darted out and licked at the tender place on his neck where she’d nearly ripped his throat out.

  “Speaking of killing me,” he murmured, and she lifted her head.

  “I’m really sorry about that too,” she said. “I -- I lost control…”

  “No, no, occupational hazard,” Finn assured her, but not really himself. Still, an element of danger was fun. Who wanted to be safe all the time?

  “If you’ll let me,” her warm tongue darted out again, “I’ll kiss it better.”

  Finn opened his mouth to say that it was very sweet of her, but then he remembered that werewolves had healing enzymes in their saliva. They could cause terrible wounds, but also heal them.

  Not to mention being licked by a woman like Sofie was damn arousing. She didn’t lap delicately at his tender flesh, but swept her tongue across it in broad strokes. His neck was sensitive enough anyway, but right now, with the skin still healing, he felt every lick, every tiny breath, and it turned him on more than he could stand.

  He ran his hands down her back, feeling the muscles tense under her smooth skin and loving the curve of her back where the soft swell of her buttocks began. Mmm, her buttocks. Finn even loved the word ‘buttocks.’ It was so meaty, so firm, it rolled around the mouth and snapped out in pert little syllables. But-tocks.

  “What are you talking about?” Sofie asked, her voice vibrating through his neck. He hadn’t realized he’d said it out loud.

  “Buttocks,” he told her earnestly. “Specifically yours, and how much I like them.”

  Her body shook and she muffled a laugh in his neck. “Well, thank you.”

  “You’re very welcome.” He caressed her flesh, soft in all the right places, firm and round and glorious. Picturing those peachy round buttocks thrust upwards toward him, framing that hot little pussy he desperately wanted to plunge into, Finn swallowed and tried to think of something to distract himself. It was difficult since said pussy was resting against his burning, aching cock right now.

  Sofie’s mouth worked on his neck, hot and wonderful.

  “You know,” he said as conversationally as he could, his voice higher than usual by about an octave, “apparently this is how your cousin met her husband.”

  “Is it?” Her voice was a whisper against his neck. “I’ve never asked about the details.”

  “Yep. There was some sort of misunderstanding -- Elek was a loup-garou, you see -- he went all crazy at the full moon, and got into a fight with Magda. She beat the crap out of him, which I’m starting to think must be some sort of form of endearment from a female werewolf, and then she had to lick him better. Of course, the way he tells it, she hurt him in some very tender places. Lucky old Elek woke up with a gorgeous woman licking his balls.”

  There was a silence. Sofie’s tongue had stopped laving his neck.

  “Of course, if you should ever want to hurt my balls, you’re more than welcome to lick them better. Just, you know, don’t hurt them hard. Maybe a tiny scratch. Back of the nail or something. Nothing vicious involving, you know, claws. Matter of fact, we could skip the hurting part, if you don’t mind, and just move right on to the licking.”

  Sofie sat up, and Finn took a moment to admire her breasts again before he realized she was swinging her leg off him and sliding to her feet. Even as he registered that she was moving away -- standing up -- ending it! -- he had to appreciate the fluid, animal way she moved.

  Then his senses cleared, and registered the loss of her hot, silken body against his.

  “Sofie?” he said, looking up at her through a confused fog.

  “I, uh,” she said. She bit her lip and looked away. “This isn’t. Er.”

  “What?”

  “It’s not a good idea,” she said. “I, er. You don’t… uh. I’m not…”

  “What?” Finn said again.

  “I’m not…” She took a deep breath and forced her gaze to his. “This isn’t professional,” she said, and turned on her heel and walked out.

  Out of the bedroom, out of his fantasy, out of her mind as far as he could tell.

  Walked out! On him! No one had ever walked out on him before! Ever! In nine thousand years, no one had ever got up in the middle of being naked with him and changed their mind. Not once!

  “What?” Finn said, again, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  Unfortunately, he also couldn’t think of an answer.

  Sofie stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, her pupils huge, her lips pink and puffy. Her nipples were hard, dark and aching to be touched. Between her legs she was dripping wet. Her hair was --

  Well, the least said about her hair the better.

  She looked like a wild woman. Out of control. Careless.

  She looked like a werewolf.

  “There’s no such thing as werewolves,” she whispered, but Finn’s words were echoing around her like actual sounds in the air.

  …some sort of term of endearment from a female werewolf…

  A female werewolf. That’s what he thought she was. He’d seen her. He’d seen her change before she leapt out of the window. He knew she was the wolf who’d attacked him. He knew.

  Oh God, he knew.

  “There’s no such thing,” she began again, but her throat closed over and she couldn’t finish it.

  She couldn’t lie to herself any more.

  Chapter Seven

  “So, you’re a werewolf,” Finn greeted her as she fastened her seatbelt, and Sofie nearly crushed the buckle.

  “There’s no --” she began, but then met his eyes for the first time since she ran out of the bedroom and saw compassion there.

  She finished buckling the seatbelt with methodical movements and tried to collect herself, staring out the window at the dull gray sky. It was midmorning and she’d dressed herself in the jeans and t-shirt Finn had rather thoughtfully found for her, before biting the bullet and calling her boss, who had not been very happy with her at all.

  “Come back to Prague right now,” Kralik had stormed, “or don’t ever bother.”

  She sighed, staring at her hands as they rested
on the blue denim. She so rarely wore jeans. They weren’t professional.

  “Can we talk about something else?” she said as Finn started the car.

  “Sure. Why’d you run out on me this morning?”

  “Something else.”

  He blew out a breath between his teeth as he pulled the car onto the main road. “The Elfking, then.”

  “Right. Good. Why is he killing these ‘vampires’?”

  Finn sighed as he heard her inverted commas, but replied anyway. “Well, killing vampires is what he does. Did. You know the King Arthur myths? Great leader, protector of the people, promises to rise again when he’s needed?”

  “Of course. Did this Elfking borrow the myth?”

  “Actually, Arthur borrowed his myth from the Elfking,” Finn said. He flicked the turn indicator, and Sofie found herself watching the movement of bone and muscle in his hand. His elegant fingers. He had really nice hands.

  Her face heated up as she remembered just how nice.

  “Long, long time ago,” Finn went on, “the Elfking was our actual king. Way before my time. We’re talking back when humans were still dragging their knuckles on the ground. Of course,” he winked at her, “some of them still do.”

  Kralik for one, she thought, but kept that to herself.

  “Back then, Elves had a lot more magic than we have now. Strong magic. We call it the Unlearnt Magic now. Powerful stuff. No one really knows the extent of it, but we know it was very useful in protecting us against our foes.”

  “The vampires,” she said.

  “Yep, the vampires. But the Elfking was such a great protector of his people that no one else needed to practice the magic. It became Unlearnt.”

  Of course, there’s no such thing as magic, Sofie told herself, but her words sounded flimsier now than they ever had.

  “While the Elfking was alive, no one needed to defend themselves,” Finn explained. “The vampires eased off. Or at least they seemed to. By the time they came back in force, the only one with the magic still in his power was the Elfking, and he simply wasn’t strong enough against their renewed attacks. He was killed, and so were hundreds of Elves. Thousands. Just sucked dry. And with every Elf killed, the vampires became stronger.”