by Cara Villar
I yanked myself out of his hold, wrenching my shoulder with the force it took to shove away, but not showing it as I glared at him. “I may have mourned the man that I married, who happens to bare a passing resemblance to Ambrose, but my Glenn was never a murderer.”
“The face of a loved one will always make you hesitate, even when it’s the murderer wearing that face.”
“This isn’t my first hunt, Felix.”
“No, but it’s the first one that directly affects your perspective.”
“My husband is dead. He isn’t Ambrose.”
“Are you telling me or you?”
“You, damn it! My husband was not a killer.”
“But he’s honed his skinning skills.”
The crack of my hand hitting his face was loud in the quiet of the room, and rang in my ears like the throb through my hand. I didn’t even know I’d lifted my hand to slap him until I’d done it. I covered my mouth and stared at Felix’s turned cheek, at the pink stain of my hand print coming up on his pale skin. I’d lashed out, angry, not at him, but at myself. The realization was instant and icy cold.
Because I know he’s right.
“Oh, my God,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry. Felix, I’m so sorry.”
Slowly his head turned back to me, and his eyes were downcast. He lifted his hand and snaked his fingers behind my nape and pulled me to him, wrapping his arms around me even as I mumbled apologies into my hands, into his shoulder.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” was his only reply.
My hand stung even as I gripped the dark material of his shirt, my eyes burning as I blinked furiously to keep from crying. “Oh, but you had every right too,” I whispered, on a shuddering breath. “You don’t ‘alf bring out the worst in me, Vampire.”
I felt him smile briefly against my neck. “Feeling’s mutual, pet.” He lifted his head, and when I met his gaze, his face was drawn in serious lines, despite his lighter tone.
Before he could speak though, I interrupted him. “I’m still going with you.”
He snapped his mouth shut, then said after a moment, “On one condition.”
I frowned at him suspiciously.
“You drink from me again.” The flush that shot through my body was instant and undeniable. My brain might be saying ‘fuck, no’ but my body was all for the ‘hell, yeah!’
Traitorous body.
“Felix,” I said, very slowly, gently extricating myself from his arms, culpability making my blood cool quick. “I really don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“You need to be at maximum strength and if you don’t drink you aren’t going.”
I scowled. “You can’t stop me.”
“Maybe not on my own, but I bet three Weres, two Shifters, plus me could.”
I couldn’t believe he would do that. And I couldn’t believe the others would do that.
Then again…
“I want it in a glass then—”
“It’s better from the source.”
“You want this?” I demanded. “Last time we lost control.”
“Oh, I want this very much.” His voice had deepened, becoming husky, coaxing, drawing a shiver from me that seemed to utterly squish any remorse I felt about my husband.
Jeepers, I thought¸ who was this man before he was a Vampire? Was he this dangerous to women when he was mortal?
“Well,” I blushed, hands clenched, “they’ll hear us—“
Before I even finished the weak protest, he was striding for the small docking station complete with iPod, and pressed one button, one single button, and suddenly, Bush’s “Little Things” was blaring from the speakers loud enough to drown out everything else.
Well, that shut me up.
Felix turned to me, his hands lifting to his shirt to pop the buttons open, revealing pale, muscled flesh and the sharp, swirling tattoo. I sucked in a breath, my heart kicking up faster and faster with every loosed button, and my tongue was laced with iced coffee and his desire, making me giddy. His shirt parted, revealing a chiseled torso and broad shoulders, all a creamy shade of silk over steel. My fingers twitched to run over that silken steel and trace the jagged edges of that spiraling tattoo and see just how big it is with my tongue…
Glenn has broad shoulders too.
I flinched at the thought that came out of nowhere.
His skin would be that pale now, too.
I squeezed my eyes shut against the flickers of memory dancing behind my eyes. Of skin, touch, sighs and things that lingered in the heart of a young wife and heartbroken girl. I’d only ever been with one man. Never even considered being with another, and there I had a Vampire seducing me.
Hunting me.
Hunting…
My eyes flew open as his scent enveloped me and realization lit up my senses. My gaze snagged on forest green eyes shot through with olive and sparkling with lightning gold. A predator amidst the forest shades. Felix was hunting me, as surely as I wanted to be his prey. I’d been so concerned with Vince coming after me that I’d grown complacent with Felix, relaxed and submissive.
Now look! I chastised myself. Now you can’t resist him! But he smells so good.
I inhaled deep again the bitter, spicy-sweet scent of him and let it waft around me, the pulsing aroma of his need sizzling over the skin of my arms as daring as a caress.
“Why were you in Summersville?” I blurted suddenly, eyes flying wide.
Felix tilted his head and watched me, like the most unsettling of aggressors, curious but still tragically dangerous. “Looking for you,” he replied softly.
So many questions flew through my mind at a speed too fast to process, and all I could do was stare at him.
“Red?” His voice was chocolate-rich and whisky-deep.
I drew my eyes up from the smooth perfection of his chest and abs to meet the intensity of his stare. He slid the dark shirt from his shoulders, a rolling invitation to touch, and moved towards the bed, never breaking eye-contact. The extreme focus made the sharpness of his gaze a palpable touch.
Glenn never looked at me like that.
I swallowed, feeling awkward and unworthy of such scrutiny, but when Felix dropped onto the end of the bed and held a hand out to me, I didn’t hesitate to take it.
Yeah. Definitely doing that a lot lately.
Felix helped me up onto the plush covers, and then released my fingers to scoot back to the pillows piled high at the headboard. I could do nothing but follow him, crawling after him, held enslaved by the promise burning in his gold dazzled eyes. Reclining back, he tilted his head to the side, his eyes on me, and offered me his neck. I swallowed, my gaze shifting from his captivating eyes to the inviting skin of his throat.
“My bite is too messy for there,” I told him softly, looking back at his face. To claim his neck also seemed too personal, too intimate.
“I heal fast, and your saliva is an anti-coagulant,” he said, all practical, not moving.
I swallowed again, licking my lips, and his eyes finally moved, flicking down to my mouth like he couldn’t resist a glimpse of them. The knowledge that he wanted me was heady. He lifted his hands, opening his arms, and gestured.
“Come to me,” he said. “You need it, and we both want it.”
“How do you know?” I asked, shuffling closer.
His eyes met mine again. “I can smell your desire, Red.”
I stilled, and then tilted my head back to sniff the air…
Shit.
The citrus bite of orange and the giddy aroma of chocolate mixed alluringly with iced coffee and anise, creating that same intense perfume that had filled the plane so fast, so thick, and so intoxicating.
My heart began to pound. I started to pant. My skin stretched tight over my bones the more I inhaled. I could taste us on my tongue. A light dusting of everything I could have if I just moved forward and took what he was offering. I nearly moaned as something long forgotten clenched inside me, awakened by his blood on the plane and
aching for another tasted since.
My lips parted against the elongating of my fangs. My eyes opened to take in Felix laid out like a delicious platter of wanton delights, and I hadn’t even realized I’d closed them. Before I knew it, I was straddling his lap, pressing down onto his need enough to make him hiss in a breath, and my hands were sliding over warm skin, smooth and pale.
The green of Felix’s eyes were almost completely engulfed in gold, and upon seeing them, my vision swamped itself with dark yellow, heat rushing from my stomach and flooding outwards, sliding down my limbs to leave them heavy. Leaning forward, I ducked my head and licked him, from collarbone to jaw, and my eyes rolled back in my head at the flavor of him. Felix’s hands gripped my hips, and I spread my knees wider, the barrier of my plaid pajamas and his slacks were nothing against the intense satisfaction of hearing him groan under me.
I brushed his skin with my fangs once in warning, then stretched my jaw wider and slid my fangs effortlessly into his skin, aiming for veins rather than arteries. Felix’s grip jerked on me, and his hips bucked up once on reflex, and then my mouth was filled with his taste, the flavor ridiculously more intense than what his skin had been.
It was sharp, rich and crisp.
All the scents that were him were the same in the taste of his blood, and it flowed down into me and burned, hot and heavy and undeniable, and I moaned against his skin. The power of him rushing through my body and bringing to life every cell as if they had been nothing but excess tissue before. I was giddy with the potency of him. Drunk, again, on the power of his Vampire essence and wanting more.
More.
His breath whooshed over my shoulder in sharp pants, and his hands alternated between pushing me down and pulling me up, rubbing me against the hard length of his excitement even as his own hips rolled.
My hips began to undulate of their own accord as my fingers threaded into his hair. His blood was a liquid-inferno pulsating from between my legs, burning me from the inside out. It took all thoughts of anything but him and me and this and the ultimate culmination far, far away, just like last time.
Just like last time.
Never this good with Glenn.
I released Felix’s neck with a gasp and licked my lips, tasting him and feeling an answering throb deep and low. I dragged my tongue over his neck, sealing the wounds, and moaned as I caught another swallow of his essence, bucking and pressing and gripping with hands and thighs.
Felix’s hand suddenly slid up my tank, cupping bare breasts and thumbing the tight peak. I surged upright with a gasp and bucked my hips faster against him, grabbing his wrists to keep them there. His pupils were huge —nothing but a halo of fine Vampire gold. His fangs were down, white and sharp and gleaming.
On instinct, I leaned forward and licked one sharp point. The flick of my tongue was quick and his reaction faster still. Even as I was leaning back, he was moving with me, and his lips were around my nipple before I could even suck in a breath.
“Felix!” I moved harder against him, faster, desperate, the climax just on the cusp but not going over, heat racing over my skin and pulsing in my core, expanding out to throb at every pulse point.
“Ride me, pet,” Felix groaned against my tight flesh, the dark rumble vibrating through me as a sharp sting caressed the flesh held teasingly between his lips.
Fang? Had he cut me?
“Oh, God, just like last time.”
Just like last time.
My arms slid about his bare shoulders, my nails digging in as I rocked my hips hard and fast, his rigid arousal rubbing over and over and over, right where I wanted, making the pressure grow, inflaming me, beckoning me, demanding I cum.
Now.
I cried out, pleasure crashing over me in a white-hot wave that left stars dancing behind my eyes. My thighs quivered at the intensity of my orgasm, and the liquid fire that burned inside me escaped in a hot rush from between my legs.
Felix’s strong arms banded around me as he hissed in a breath, and suddenly he was bucking up into me, his powerful thrusts taking hold of my waning climax and ramping it right back up until I was gasping out another hot, wet, ecstasy-filled peak, and he was groaning loud and long into my flesh.
We collapsed back onto the pillows, and the sweet post-orgasmic lull was tingling over my skin and beckoning me to slumber happily in my satiation. Felix didn’t seem to mind me slouched over him, his hands smoothing up and down my spine. He seemed less inclined to move than I did, simply breathing deep our combined scents filling the room.
“I think,” he slurred, “I lost my legs again.”
I chuffed a laugh and replied, “And we still didn’t swap underwear.”
24
G.C. Logistics.
Geoffrey Carver Logistics.
Glenn Cutter Logistics.
My soul was icy cold as I stared at the entrance to the glass fronted building and saw my husband’s initials emblazoned in bright white, like a mockery above the door. Seeing them made me realize how blind I’d been. I’d been so focused on Vince, Felix and the atrocities of Ambrose… The thought that Glenn was alive never occurred to me. Not after my first one hundred years of searching for him.
Then of mourning him for another hundred.
And then missing him every day since then.
Now, this sterile, clinical looking building with Glenn’s initials on it was a scornful representation of what Ambrose considered his former self to be; plain, functional, and lacking any kind of individuality to all the others of its kind around it. Basically, Ambrose was saying that there was nothing special about Glenn. And that, if anything, showed me just how far away from my husband Ambrose had become. I guess he’d never seen these buildings at dawn, when the rising sun reflected off the glass like a million mirrors, giving back the sky its own canvas in hues of fuchsia, orange and gold.
I wriggled my toes in my DC’s then shifted my hips, resting my weight on the opposite leg and the skirt of my fake school uniform hitching up on the opposite side. In exactly four minutes, I was going to cross the street and just walk in the front door, straight across the lobby to the security guard behind the desk and knock him out. In one hit. It wasn’t that I couldn’t do it. That I could overpower a human male was not in question. What had me fidgeting was the warm hum of awareness in the back of my head.
Less than four hours ago I’d woken up from a sleep so deep I hadn’t even dreamed. I was so well-rested and lethargic that I hadn’t even wanted to move. I was on my back, one arm stretch up and tucked behind the pillow under my head. The rest of me was entangled in warm, sexy Vampire who smelt simply divine.
Felix was sprawled over me, literally. One arm wrapped about my torso, the other, snaked beneath my neck. His body was half covering mine, and his thigh was pressed to my backside, my legs bent and arching over his hip with my feet tucked into the back of his calf. His face was pressed into my throat, his breath hot on my skin, his breathing deep and slow, like he was inhaling me. Claiming me.
He was also a total bed hog. My lips curved slightly in amusement as I had noticed I was almost at the edge of the bed, and he was spread out over the rest of the four-poster. We were both under the down comforter, and our scents were so thick in the air, had been for so long, that you couldn’t discern our individual fragrances. I was surprised by the realization that our combined aromas were …sultry.
That’s when I’d sensed the sleepy laughter bubbling in the back of my mind. It was shockingly intimate in its familiarity, as fine as a caress, all heat and sensual enticement.
“Don’t get angry,” the Vampire had murmured into my neck, his breath soft and sleepy and hot on my skin, making me shiver right down to my toasty toes.
“I’m not.” I had replied, confused, frowning.
How is he…? I didn’t know what to call it. Connected to me? Linked? Oh God… bonded? My memories instantly flashed to that brief sting of pain I felt when his mouth was at my breast, and I knew instantly that he’d
cut me, and taken my blood, effectively cementing our exchange into a bond.
Felix had chuckled softly. “Don’t panic either.”
I had gone utterly still, my mind focusing on the mental ‘scent’ of the Vampire snuggled into me, physically and in the recesses of my own consciousness. It kind of felt… crowded. But not in the sense of being smothered. More like a bar when the music is good and the atmosphere is good.
Felix, in my head, felt good.
Blimey.
“I gotta take a shower,” I had told him, and shuffled out of bed and to the bathroom. And thus had proceeded to stare at myself in the mirror and try to not think too hard, while unintentionally wondering how much I was feeling and/or thinking Felix was picking up. If the constant hum of faint amusement tingling along my synapses was anything to go by, the answer was most definitely…enough.
Growling inwardly, and mentally swatting at the damn Vampire sniggering at me in my own damn head, I had half scalded myself in the spray of the shower in my distraction, but it was enough to bring me to my senses.
What the bloody hell has he done to me?
That single question had ricocheted around my mind and set off sparks of panic like the lights in a pinball machine. My insides had quivered with unease all the way through my shower, through my dressing and my banter with Felix through the bathroom door, through breakfast with the Shifter twins, and the informative and enlightening conversation with Vincent about Ambrose’ sire.
My sire.
My stomach had been heavy with agitation all throughout learning how my husband, newly turned Vampire fledgling, was raised by a Vampire that was certifiably insane, despite being an Ancient. Or maybe that was why he was mad. Being thousands of years old might well make you a little eccentric. It was said that he believed a Vampire and a Werewolf bite could produce a hybrid with all the species’ advantages, and none of their faults. The night the Wolves went after the poachers in my village, the Vampire followed in their wake.
At the time, he went by the name Charaka. Before that, he had been Miloslav—loosely translated from Slavic to mean ‘lover of glory’. He was rumored to be one of Vlad the Impaler’s original warlord generals, and was considered to be just as blood hungry as his liege. He had disappeared off the grid for a few decades, had appeared again in the Werewolves’ history the night Glenn and I crossed his path, and then had disappeared again—with my husband. He’d managed to turn a couple of men from the village, but had taken a special interest in Glenn. He had been intrigued with my husband’s ability to create little animals from chunks of wood, and was supposed to refer to the ornaments as ‘the collection’.