The Mating Game: Werewolves of Montana Book 8

by Bonnie Vanak

  His eyes closed, and he trembled. With a sigh, he leaned into her invisible touch.

  “My little Nymph, how I have missed making love to you, missed the joy of your laughter, the sweet softness of your skin,” he whispered.

  Ciara kept stroking his cheek, marveling at his openness. He almost seemed under a spell, his memory jolted back to the time they’d spent together. For a moment, she longed to linger, appear to him in the flesh, let him love her the way he had before.

  And then his eyes flew open, filled now with determination and new purpose. Any sense of memory fled.

  “Who is there?” he demanded.

  Frightened, she pulled back and then whooshed back into her own body. From her tree perch, she watched him prowl the parking lot like a panther until he gave one last look at the hillside where she hid and then finally he returned inside.

  Sagging with exhaustion, she panted, trying to find herself again. Ciara pressed her trembling hands to her pounding temples.

  Goddess, that hurt. She needed food and rest. But she now had the confirmation she needed.

  Xavier really had lost his memory. The great Crystal Wizard, the wizard who could flick a hand and destroy an entire city, had no idea who he was.

  But he still had all his powers, and that made him doubly dangerous.

  How was she supposed to seduce Xavier and steal his hair when he could turn her into ash if he caught her?

  Ciara leapt down from the tree and fled back to where she had parked her car by the roadside. When she reached her studio apartment in town, she locked the door behind her.

  Seeing Xavier had churned all her senses, made her feel and want and need again. Seducing him would be a cakewalk. She lay on the bed to rest, one arm flung over her head.

  Xavier as a lover had been generous, ensuring she experienced her peak before achieving his own. The memory of his big body covering hers as he gently thrust inside her sex sent shivers through her even now. Ciara grew hot and wet between her legs, and she closed her eyes, recalling how his thick cock stroked deep inside, triggering one orgasm after another.

  Pure bliss.

  Running her hands over her hips, she wished he was here right now, undressing her, leading her over to the bed. He would not be gentle this time. Xavier would be forceful and powerful, pinning her down with his formidable strength, his cock rapidly pistoning in and out of her wet sex. He would spread her legs wide to take her, make her know exactly who dominated her, demanding she look at him as he slid deep into her body. She would scream from the erotic pleasure, and then just as the tension broke and she climaxed, his muscled body would convulse as he shouted her name, pumping his hot, potent seed into her young, fertile body. He would keep her trapped in his bed for hours, making love to her over and over, each thick jettison of his seed shooting past the open, ready cervix of her womb, until he finally impregnated her…

  Her eyes flew open. Dear Goddess!

  Ciara ran into the bathroom and stared into the mirror. Her eyes, oh no, her eyes…

  They were a dark, rich emerald, much darker than usual. Fingers fumbling with the buttons on her shirt, she managed to tear it off and then shed her satin lace bra.

  Unmistakable.

  Her nipples, normally a pretty coral color, were crimson and elongated, as if preparing to nurse a baby.

  She was going into heat. In two days, her body would experience a fertile period, hormones overriding all common sense, her craving need for sex like a blast furnace.

  With a quivering hand, she touched the mirror. A vibrator could not quell the pulsing ache deep inside her womb. Only hard loving by a fierce male could satisfy her.

  Most Nymphs went into heat once a year. Not her. With her shifter blood, she ovulated twice a year. She had only experienced one heat in the past year; her first one, with Xavier.

  Now is the time, a little voice whispered inside her. Now, while he has no recollection of you being his lover or the anger he holds toward you for stealing the ring.

  A dangerous venture, for if he remembered anything about her while they engaged in sex, he would not love her.

  He would destroy her.

  It had been a most unusual afternoon. Then again, every day since he’d awoken on the riverbank was odd.

  But the hawk shifter who had knocked on his door, claiming to be a groundskeeper, took the grand prize.

  Using his powers, he’d scanned the shifter’s mind and found it under the tight grip of a spell but one that puzzled him. It was as if the shifter had cooperated.

  By now, Xavier knew there were only two types of people on this earth. Humans and Others.

  From his mere scent, the shifter proved to be Other. He looked human, acted human, but that aura surrounding him and his scent proved otherwise.

  Xavier wasn’t certain if his ability to detect the differences had to do with his incredible powers or some other ability. And if so, what had he used this power to accomplish?

  Even with this damnable memory fugue, he knew that absolute power corrupted. It was bred into his blood and bones, and nothing could make him forget that bald truth.

  Surely he held this wealth of magick for a greater purpose. But what?

  When he’d gone outside after the shifter, he’d detected another presence, a very faint one, but one that nearly made him stagger with sheer want. The presence triggered all his vulnerabilities and made him feel a terrible, raging need. Not a mere need for sex and the easing of his body but a deeper need for connection.

  He sensed he had not connected with many Others in a very long time, and his position and enormous powers prohibited him from making friends.

  Xavier contemplated these thoughts as he drove back to The Kountry Kettle to work the night shift.

  Odd how he didn’t need any sleep either. Lately he felt slightly drained, but sleep did not ease his restlessness.

  The more he worked, the more he came into contact with the townspeople. Xavier hoped to catch another glimpse of the beauty he’d seen at the drive-thru—the woman who’d known him.

  Deeply curious about the lovely woman he’d seen at the drive-thru, he hoped she’d show up tonight at the bar.

  She knows me. How? It matters not, because she knows me. She is the key to finding out who I am. But if she is a Nymph, how can I resist her?

  His pulse kicked up a notch as he entered the bar. Those gold curls cascading down her back, her woebegone expression twined with a sinful mouth. Damn. And that cute, little dimple on her lower right cheek…

  Fingers unfurling, he paid no attention as his car keys clattered to the floor. A butt dimple. How would he know this?

  We must have been lovers. No wonder she knows me.

  Although it was early, the bar was busy. He enjoyed the atmosphere and felt more at ease here than other establishments closer to the tourist town bordering the national park.

  Glowing candles lined a side bar and were set in glass jars scattered around the two rooms. Comfortable chairs clustered together around polished, wood tables to encourage conversation, with decorative table lamps giving intimate, low lighting. The wood-paneled walls were accented by deep, forest-green tones. The bar itself was an antique, with glass shelves filled with bottle after bottle of spirits. The place thrummed with a flicker of power that his senses appreciated. He knew there were Others here, but he could not tell how many.

  Through happy hour, he poured drinks and chattered with customers but always kept an eye on the double oak doors for the petite, golden beauty. He needed to find her again and discover the hidden fount of information about himself that she knew. Jealous a moment that she had access to what he desperately needed, he felt like using his newfound powers to hunt and track.

  Find her and shake her until she confessed every minute detail about his life. Or kiss it out of her. At the latter thought, his blood surged hot and thick.

  Xavier turned from the bar and busied himself washing a few glasses in the sink. Suddenly he caught a delicate
scent, and his dick turned to stone.

  She was here. He felt it in his bones as deeply as he felt the hunger to know who he was.

  Scanning the dark, polished counter, he saw her sit at the far end. Golden light overhead washed her woebegone expression in unearthly light, as if she were a sprite or a Fae, landed here by accident.

  He cared not what she was, only who she was.

  Burning with determination, he strode toward her. Nothing tonight would deter him from coaxing out everything she knew about him.

  Powers surging, filling him with energy as if he’d plugged into a live electrical line, he ignored all else and focused only on her.

  Ciara’s breath left her throat in a heated rush.

  She’d come here to find Xavier, after making a few inquiries at her office about the new bartender in town. If she was to save her mother from the witch’s grasp, she must get a lock of Xavier’s hair.

  But seeing him like this made her realize she’d made a mistake.

  Xavier’s eyes burned white. She knew the Skins couldn’t see this, nor could they see the unmistakable crystals tipping his black hair. Only Others like herself had the ability. She knew what it meant.

  Danger. The wizard was cranked up, filled with power so thick and heavy that it suffocated her. The air grew thick and cloying, metallic as if live wires snaked and hissed on the countertop.

  He still had amnesia, thank Danu. But for how long? And what would happen when he remembered?

  How could she cut off a lock of his crystal hair? This confident, authoritative being could split her in half, burn her alive with a flick of his finger.

  Even in his vulnerable state of unknowing, he presented a deeper threat than the witch. Xavier had made it known how he felt about her thievery.

  And now she must steal a lock of his hair, the hair that contained the very power radiating from him like a blast furnace.

  Play it cool. It’s going to be all right. You have your own power over him.

  The thought provided slim comfort as he stopped before her, his burning gaze resting on her face in a caress of incandescent heat.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi.” She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “White wine, chilled, please.”

  No move from him, no attempt at a smile. Just that intensity that could kick over an elephant.

  “You know me,” he said quietly. “Who I am. You called me Xavier at the drive-thru.”

  She managed a faint smile. “You remind me of someone I knew…once.”

  “Knew very well, I imagine.” He braced his hands on the bar. She stared down at the backs, the dark hairs faint upon his golden skin. “I don’t remind you of that someone. I am that someone. How else would I know you have a very cute dimple on your right ass cheek?”

  Ciara didn’t dare move, immobilized by fright. He had started to remember.

  “Maybe you saw me at a nude beach?”

  “This is Colorado.”

  “Or a nude mountain resort?” she offered helpfully.

  A grudging laugh, no humor in it. “You know me,” he repeated. “My name. My real name. Who are you?”

  She could not tear her fascinated gaze away from him. It felt as if he’d pinned her to the floor with the force of his power, his personality. Ciara felt herself slipping into a fugue. Murmuring voices, loud laughter, the clink of silverware against china, and the smell of grilled steak faded away.

  Leaving only them alone in this room, this time, this…now.

  Other customers began clamoring for service.

  “Shouldn’t you fetch their drinks?” she asked, desperate to pry his attention away from her.

  Xavier’s gaze never left hers. Suddenly he waved a hand.

  Her heart stuttered in panic as she saw he’d created a mirror image of himself. A cheerful Xavier, waiting on other customers, rushing back and forth to pull beer and pour drinks.

  A slow, lethal smile tugged his mouth upward. “I do not…fetch.”

  She gulped hard.

  “I’ve created an illusion that you are sitting here by yourself. No one else can see me or that we are conversing. Now, again, what is your name?”

  “I am called Ciara.”

  “Where do you live? What do you do?”

  No choice but to obey the steely command. She told him about her hateful job in the real estate firm, where she filed and answered phones and was treated like a kicked dog. She told him she lived in a tiny apartment in town. She told him her favorite meal and that her sweet cherry-red Mustang cost her a chunk of change and the car loan was taking up most of her paycheck.

  She must heed his command. Anything he desired, she would give him.

  Xavier leaned close. “What are you?”

  No. He must think of her as Skin. Don’t let him know your true nature. Instinct screamed inside her, the old, protective habit struggling to resist his intrusion.

  Much as her female flesh had struggled to accept the thick slide of his cock into her body…and then finally surrendered to his male power. His irresistible force.

  A slight push against her mind, like a gentle nudge of a hand that held much strength, yet the owner chose not to use it.

  Ciara felt her mouth move involuntarily. “I am a Nymph of old.”

  “I know you,” he told her, his gaze flickering.

  “Yes.” She struggled to maintain her own identity, her personality that he siphoned from her, a tidal wave washing away all debris. I am flotsam on his immense ocean. I cannot stand against this. Go with the tide…

  “We knew each other long ago,” she heard herself say as if from a distance, another being watching the gold-haired girl at the bar staring into the chiseled face of the wizard with the burning, white-blue eyes.

  Such control, finite and awful. Her mind wriggled, desperately trying to swim free. He squeezed her brain like a man gripping an orange, juice and pulp oozing over his clenched fingers.

  “Please,” she gasped. “We did have a past. Long ago. Please.”

  He paid no mind, a muscle ticking in his right temple, his mouth a thin slash. Xavier stared at her, shadows dancing suddenly in his white-blue eyes.

  “You begged me once before, long ago. You screamed and pleaded for your life. You were picking wildflowers on a sun-kissed hilltop when my master stole you away to experiment on you, kill you.”

  A tingle rushed down her spine, almost a nagging as if his words were truth and such an event had happened, so very long ago before motor cars and white wine spritzers and cell phones.

  An icy finger stroked down her spine. Her nerves tingled hard, and the dreamy, almost sensual feeling of bonding to him vanished.

  Xavier blinked hard, his eyes turning gray-blue once more, only now a little clouded, as if he’d been asleep and now woke. He blinked again and looked normal. Almost non-threatening.

  He waved another hand, and the illusion of himself behind the bar vanished, leaving only him. Such powerful magick.

  “White wine, chilled.” The engaging smile he offered gave no comfort. She had seen the real him, knew the wizard beneath the bustling bartender who joked once more with customers as he poured her drink and then placed it on the bar.

  Now it was her turn to question, to marvel. She seized his wrist as he leaned over the counter to mop up a spill.

  “You knew me, long ago. We knew each other. How? I have no memory of this,” she whispered, knowing her words would penetrate the loud laughter and shrill conversation.

  For she held a magick of her own, to entice males, make them hear only her.

  He blinked and shook his head, as if trying to clear his mind. Then his gaze became clouded. “I do not know. The memory was taken from me many years ago.”

  Ciara dug into her clamshell purse and withdrew a slim, white business card. “Call me when your shift here ends tonight. I’m a night owl, so the time doesn’t matter. There is something I must discuss with you.”

  He took the card, tucked it into his tr
ouser pocket. Then Xavier reached across the counter and slid a hand over her chilled cheek. His palm was warm, and his touch energized her, even as it made her tremble with desire.

  “Ciara,” he murmured.

  Xavier turned and headed for the opposite end of the counter to pour a drink.

  Now was the time to cut off his hair, to grow close enough to become his lover once more, and snip, snip, snip.

  The thought made her a little hysterical as she gulped her wine.

  She would save her mother and likely lose her own life.

  It was only a matter of time before Xavier fully regained his memory. And then he would not grill her.

  He would burn her alive with his passion and then, when he discovered her theft, char her flesh with his power.

  Leaving nothing of her behind but her screams…

  16

  Ciara slid the gray file drawer shut, wishing she could close her feelings and her fear of Xavier as easily. A day after the frightening bar scene, she needed breathing room.

  Tonight, she must seek him out. He had not called after his shift had ended last night. She doubted he would call today. Xavier didn’t seem like the type to dial a cell phone. No, he’d magically appear, as if riding the west wind.

  The Goddess alone knew what the wizard could do to her without an audience… Until she managed to gain a modicum of control over him, either through her wits or her sexual nature, she was prey.

  The stupid, silver bell over the front door tinkled. This was a real estate office, not an ice cream store, but Joseph, the owner, thought it gave them a friendly air.

  She hurried toward the front office, knowing Joseph and Rene would yell at her for leaving it unattended, and ground to a halt.

  Xavier stood before the mahogany desk on the left, gazing around the office.

  He dominated the room like a towering oak, his broad shoulders taking up all the space. Today he wore black silk trousers with a black blazer and a powder-blue shirt. The stylish clothing made him look even more intense.

  Joseph hurried from the back, dusting off his hands. The little man with his wisps of graying hair, beady eyes behind gold spectacles, and his gray suit with the power-red tie looked cheap and gawdy in comparison to Xavier. The wizard’s intensity and charisma made the little real estate office seem pretentious in its décor of paneled walls and sleek desktops.