by Lola Taylor
She could feel herself growing slicker with each gyration of her hips. Her whole body throbbed with need, begging for release.
Which Elijah apparently had plans to delay for as long as possible. He leaned in, until his lips were grazing her ear. “Tell me how you like to be touched.”
Her chest rose and fell with each labored breath. “I want you…” She swallowed. Her throat was dry, making her voice raspy. “… to go inside me.”
“Like this?”
His fingers slid all the way inside her. She cried out and arched her back. He slid his hand out, now slicked with her honey, and slid it back in again. And again, and again, and again, building up a rhythm. She gripped the sheets, groaning as the rising flames scorched her every fiber. She was losing her mind.
He kissed her neck, which was now slicked in a sheen of hot sweat. “Come for me,” he said.
The command was enough to drive her over the edge. She came with a loud moan of release, arching her back and bucking her hips until the sparkling tendrils of pleasure had died away. She sagged against the bed, feeling delirious as her heart raced.
Elijah’s hand remained on her sex, stroking it soothingly. “How do you feel?”
Thinking after that required some effort. She slogged through her muddy thoughts until she found the right word. “Free.”
He pondered this. “Not bad. But I think we can do better.” He began sliding her pants down.
She nearly bolted upright, but he caught her by her shoulder. “What are you doing?” she asked as he gripped her panties with his other hand.
He grinned at her as he slowly pushed her back down onto the mattress. “Seeing if you taste as sweet as you smell.” Before she could protest, he’d pulled her panties down enough to expose her sex, right before he planted his mouth over it.
She’d barely gotten in a breath before he began to suck.
She shattered, or at least, that’s what it felt like. God, his mouth was a weapon that, if used in the right spots, could bring about mass destruction. He pried her legs apart as she moaned and he buried his face in her. His tongue licked her deep, searching and roving along her wet walls. Earlier had been scorching, but this was intense. All she could do was gasp and dig her fingernails into the mattress as he had her, taking her with a possessive growl low in his throat that made her shiver with desire.
She wanted this man, wanted to feel him sucking on her breasts and experience what it would feel like to have him inside of her.
The ferocity with which he made her come…
Verika nearly screamed as the second orgasm slammed into her. She closed her eyes and bit down on her lips, catching the cry of release in her mouth and swallowing it whole as she glided off the high. With a long sigh, she fell back against the bed, utterly spent. She couldn’t move. Her entire body felt numb as endorphins coursed through her veins, making her lids feel heavy with sleep. She opened her eyes just long enough to see Elijah leaning over her, licking her nectar off his mouth with a grin.
She couldn’t help herself. “How did I taste?” she rasped.
He bent over and kissed her. The stickiness of herself clung to her lips. “Just as I imagined. Sweet.” He reached up and tenderly cupped her cheek. “And perfect.”
Her heart sputtered, but it felt different from earlier. God, she wanted to kiss him. What she’d had of him, what he’d done to her… it hadn’t been nearly enough. Maybe it never would be.
As her common sense began to take over, her fear also returned. “Elijah,” she said carefully, reaching up to gently pry his hand from her face, “maybe we should—” Her voice abruptly cut off as she beheld the symbol seemingly carved into the skin along the back of her hand.
The lines were delicate and intricately woven in indigo ink, which seemed to shimmer faintly in the light. It first struck her as beautiful and odd, since she didn’t know where it had come from.
Elijah’s breath caught. His eyes were wide as he stared at her hand, features frozen in shock.
That’s when she knew what the symbol was.
It was a claim—between destined mates.
Elijah had just marked her.
Elijah knew an oncoming freak-out when he saw one. He could smell her rising fear and hear her quickly accelerating pulse. She continued staring, wide-eyed, at the Mark.
He probably would have stared at it himself, if he had been able to take his eyes off her.
Verika was his mate. His fucking mate.
Holy shit. Miracles really did happen. After the things he’d done in the Order, he’d thought he’d been cursed never to find happiness with anyone. Long gone were his dreams of raising a litter with a woman he was crazy about. His deepest wish, the desire to raise a family and lead a normal, quiet life, had long since been buried deep inside his scarred heart.
But now… now, everything had changed.
He resisted the urge to reach for the woman he’d put a claim on.
He didn’t know her, not very well, anyway. Did he love her? Not yet. Did she love him? That was also probably an automatic no. But already, Elijah could feel the thread between them slowly shortening, drawing them closer together toward their shared destiny.
Their meeting hadn’t just been coincidence—it had been preordained.
He waited patiently for her to speak, knowing she was trying to sort out what this meant. Every muscle in his body tensed, and he hadn’t realized just how much he needed her approval of him—of their bond—until she opened her mouth and knocked the wind right out of him.
“I can’t marry you.”
Elijah arched a brow. “I believe the correct term is ‘mate’.”
“Whatever! This—” she gestured between them “—can’t happen.”
Carefully, he schooled his features. Showing his true feelings—that he was capable of feeling anything at all—had been used as a weapon against him in the past. It was a lesson he’d rather not repeat. “Why not?” he said casually, though he felt as if his entire existence depended upon her answer.
“Because you’re a criminal! And I’m an agent of the DPI! We couldn’t be anymore star-crossed if we were Romeo and Juliet!”
He chuckled. She was so cute when she was like this.
And undeniably sexy.
His already hardened cock throbbed, and his inner wolf whined, eager to make her his.
Patience, he murmured. “But I marked you,” he said.
“You did. But I don’t know you.” She swallowed hard. “I always thought I’d marry someone for love, not because it had been arranged by destiny.”
“Is that such a bad thing?” he said, sitting beside her. She didn’t move away from him, which he supposed was a good sign. Baby steps. “I mean, I know I’m not perfect, but at least I’m not fifty with thinning hair. Plus, I still have all my teeth.”
She smiled slightly, looking up at him. “Well, I suppose that’s a plus,” she mumbled softly, staring at her hands. Her bottom lip began to tremble.
He frowned, tucking a finger under her chin to lift her face. “What’s wrong?” he murmured.
She shook her head and swiped at a tear that had fallen down her cheek. Her green eyes stared out the window. The sunshine caught the gold in them, making them sparkle.
It made his heart ache, how lovely she was. Lovely and fierce and good and kind and sexy and—
Another pang of heat went through him, and he gritted his teeth. Dammit, he didn’t know if he was going to be able to control himself long enough to let her make up her mind about mating with him.
He would never, ever force himself upon a woman. But damn it all, this was torture.
“All my life, I’ve been trying to prove I was ‘good enough’,” she whispered. “Good enough to be a witch, good enough to be in the DPI, good enough to be loved. But despite my efforts, I wasn’t enough.”
He knew instantly about whom she was talking.
She hadn’t been enough for Nik.
Never mind, the wh
ole situation had been entirely out of their control. If it had been with a friend of his, it would be one thing. But seeing as she was referring to his flesh and blood made things really freaking weird.
“You can’t help it he didn’t mark you,” Elijah said quietly. “And neither can he.”
Verika shrugged and laughed half-heartedly. “Life can be ironic sometimes, you know? Here I am, saying I’ve sworn off shifters because nothing good can ever come from loving one.”
He winced.
“Loving a werewolf means heartache. In your universe, love has rules. Spells and magic choose whom you love, rather than your heart. And I was tired of having mine torn into pieces.”
Elijah studied her. “Nik wasn’t the first shifter you’d dated.”
Verika smiled sadly. “Nope.” She made a popping noise on the “p”. “Guess you can say I have a thing for them.”
“So, you’re drawn to bad boys.” He grinned.
She flushed and looked away. “Well, as you can see, I’m not such a saint myself.”
“I think you’re perfect,” he said, reaching up to wrap a strawberry curl around his finger. Her hair was soft, and a rich, dark red that artificial hair color could only dream of matching.
She looked at him then, searching his eyes, as if his compliment surprised her. Hell, it had sort of surprised him.
What was that you were saying about staying away from witches…? a snide voice in his head said.
“How long has it been since you’ve spoken with your brothers?” she said.
He blinked. Talk about out of the blue. “Too long,” he admitted, his jaw ticking. He wasn’t angry at them, rather at the whole damned situation he was in. Leave it to him to land himself in a whole steaming pile of trouble.
“Why?” she asked. The question was nonjudgmental, more curious than anything.
He shook his head, heaviness settling into his heart. “I didn’t want to drag them into the whole mess with the Order. I couldn’t risk their lives like that. I’ve already failed them by abandoning them and not looking after them like I should have.”
“It’s not your fault,” she said gently after a moment.
“Isn’t it, though? They won’t understand abandonment.”
“Maybe they will,” she insisted. “You won’t know unless you try to reconnect with them.”
He winced. God, he wanted to so much. Any feeble hope he felt was soon squashed. “Doesn’t matter now, anyway,” he said bitterly, gesturing to the tattoo on his back. It hadn’t vanished when he’d marked Verika. He could still feel its evil vibe pulsing through his skin like a sentient being. Always watching, always waiting. “I’m probably never going to be rid of her,” he said, glancing at her with fear. The next words were incredibly hard to spit out. Not one to be a pussy, he sucked it up and did it anyway. “You don’t have to mate with me. I’ll understand if you want to leave and never see me again.” He chuckled darkly. “I’ll bet you’re wishing you’d never met me.”
“Elijah,” Verika gently chided. She sighed and ran her hands through her hair. “Right now, I don’t know what to think. It’s all happening so fast.” She pressed her lips together and tapped her nails on the bedspread. “I know the mark can’t be undone.” She took a deep breath, let it out. “I’m going to change into a werewolf two new moons from now, whether I want to or not.” There was no bitterness about her statement, rather a statement of the facts.
She looked at his back, eyes sparkling. “Though my fate may be unchangeable, that doesn’t mean yours has to be.” She smiled, but there was tightness to it. “I may have an idea to break that brand. But first, we’re going to need some supplies.”
Considering it was getting dark and every place around here closed when the sun set, they had to shimmy out the door.
Tense silence blanketed the car. Verika had turned on the radio, but it still felt awkward. Somehow, the music almost accentuated the fact things were tense between them.
No, scratch “tense” and jump straight to “holy shit what the hell is happening?”
She knew she’d dodged his unspoken question when he’d told her she didn’t have to mate with him. Truthfully, she didn’t know how to answer him right now.
Do I want to be his mate? Do I want to be bound to him forever?
Some people dreamed about that kind of love, of a bond that went soul-deep. She certainly had, as a little girl, and hell, even into her adult years. She’d thought all those dreams had been shattered when she ripped out her own heart by walking away from Nik. Without a doubt, it had been the hardest thing she’d ever done in her entire life. There was never an easy way to say goodbye to someone you love, despite knowing that love wasn’t good for you.
Verika had known it was only a matter of time before Nik marked someone. He swore he’d disregard the Mark, that his heart only belonged to her.
She’d wanted to believe his promises. She’d wanted to believe that a love that strong was unbreakable.
Not only was it not unbreakable—it was fragile. She knew better than most just how strong magic could be. Not only could she sense the inevitable heartbreak they’d both experience, but she hadn’t wanted to put him or even his future mate in that position. It wouldn’t have ended well for anyone, and she’d loved him too damned much.
So, she’d done the only thing she could do.
She’d walked away and sworn off shifters ever since.
That is, until the delectable male in the passenger seat stormed into her life.
She swallowed the lump in her throat as they pulled up to the convenience store and got out. Elijah hadn’t said a word on the way over. For that, she was grateful. She didn’t want to talk about what had just happened between them, didn’t want to believe her developing feelings for him were solely due to the fact she was his mate.
Or future mate, she corrected herself.
Elijah smiled at her when she caught his gaze from across the car. His smile was easy enough, but his eyes were weighed down by sadness.
And fear.
A shiver went through her, and the lamppost overhead flickered for a second.
Verika barely noticed it, though Elijah’s head shot up. He frowned.
“Come on,” she said, hugging herself, though it wasn’t very cold out. “We should slip in while it’s not crowded.”
His eyes lingered on the lamppost, which had gone back to normal, before he followed her into the store.
It looked the same as any convenience store, with aisles of candy, drinks, over-priced drugs, and chips. It smelled of roasting hot dogs and freshly mopped floors. The sterile fluorescent lights exaggerated how clean the place really was. There wasn’t so much as a speck of grime or dust. In fact, it was freakishly organized, as if they’d never had any customers.
Verika largely attributed that to the fact it was owned by OCD vampires.
She approached the counter, where a tall, gangly teen in a hot pink T-shirt that said FUCK TEAM EDWARD. I’M ON TEAM DRACULA stood. He popped his gum, looking for all the world like he’d rather be cleaning the toilet than manning the register.
Elijah growled softly behind her as the teen’s eyes appraised her. She gave him a wry “stand down” look and rested her elbows on the counter, leaning forward. “I’m looking for that True Blood knock-off drink that’s so popular right now. Everywhere else is out, but I’m told you guys have it. Where can I find it?”
His eyes flashed red for a split second, and he smiled. His teeth looked sharper than a normal human’s would. “Check in the back,” he purred, still eyeing her in a way that made her flesh crawl. “There should be some extras in there.”
“Thank you,” she said, forcing herself to smile politely and walk away as calmly as possible. Running from a vampire was just asking for trouble. They were predators who loved the thrill of the hunt.
Deaths related to vampires had been a rising problem the past decade. Thankfully, there were now more laws in place to help keep them lea
shed.
Elijah glared at the vamp as they walked toward the back storeroom.
It was roomy, with crates and cardboard boxes stacked in neat columns throughout. A man in a flower shirt and jeans stood there taking inventory. He looked up and smiled when he saw her. “Ah, officer. How can I be of assistance?” he said smoothly, discreetly covering up whatever he had been working on by leaning forward and resting his elbows on the boxes.
“I need blood,” she said bluntly, not in the mood to screw around.
He blinked, taken aback. “Oh, there is no blood here.”
“Come on now, Dawson. I know better than that. Your lackey out front even said there was some back here when I used the code phrase we’ve picked up on the streets.”
He tensed, his eyes glowing red. “Insolent brat. It’s so hard to find reliable help these days. Everyone’s an idiot.”
“Relax,” she said dryly. “I’m not here for a bust.” She crossed her arms. “I’m here for business.”
He raised a brow, intrigued. “What kind of business?”
“The kind that involves you keeping your mouth shut about it.” She glanced at his papers, a thinly veiled threat. Or else, I’ll turn your little illegal dealings in human blood in to the DPI.
He bristled, a catty smile spreading across his lips. “Fair enough. What do you want?” he said, dropping the civility.
“I need a bag of every blood type you have,” she said. “A quart should do.”
He appraised her. “That’s not cheap.”
“Neither is my silence about exactly what type of convenience store you’re running.”
He went utterly still, sizing her up.
Elijah tensed, looking like he was bracing for a fight.
Dawson glanced at the towering werewolf. A werewolf bite was lethal to a vampire. And Dawson might be immortal, but his beer gut and general lack of muscle tone suggested he wasn’t nearly a match for Elijah…
“Let me get that for you,” Dawson said, faking a smile. “I’ll be right back.”
He took his inventory with him and scampered off.