Adrian then ripped the werewolf’s neck apart, gorging on the blood spraying from the jagged wound. The werewolf fought against Adrian’s grip, but the beast was soon too weak, and his head lolled to the side, his eyes rolling to white. Adrian punched his fist into the wolf’s chest cavity and pulled his still beating heart out. A moment later, the beast shifted back into the dead man.
Affected by the blood scent, Lavinia’s wolf paced around Adrian and only calmed when he raised his head from his prey and looked at her.
“It’s all right,” Adrian said, letting go of the werewolf that fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes. He crouched in front of her wolf and caressed her fur. “You are hurt.” He looked at the wound on her flank that wasn’t deep and should’ve started healing. “That scum called you half-breed—” Comprehension dawning on his face, he lowered his nose to her fur and inhaled her scent. “You have mortal genes, and they slow your wolf’s healing powers. I can help if you let me.”
Lavinia’s wolf flattened to the floor, exposing her belly to him. Adrian gave her a tummy rub before bringing his wrist to his mouth. His fangs slashed his skin, then he turned his hand so that his blood dripped into her mouth. The scent and taste of Adrian filled her wolf senses as his blood knitted her torn hide and closed the wound. A moment later, her matted fur was whole again, and the pain was gone.
“You can shift back,” Adrian said.
Her wolf whined, not wanting to leave him, but Lavinia wasn’t going to have any of her wolf’s antics today. Asserting her will, she relegated her wolf back to the recesses of her mind. A moment later, she stood naked in front of Adrian, shivering.
“Hello—” Adrian’s eyes roamed all over her body, his gaze lingering on her breasts before he remembered the wolf lying a few feet from him. “Have you seen him before?” He shook off his tuxedo jacket and enveloped her in it, making sure to overlap its lapels over her chest. Hugging her softly, he kissed her forehead.
She shook her head. “Never met that guy before, but his smell is familiar—”
“Familiar how?”
Memories whirled in her mind, trying to form a complete picture. “I’m not sure, but someone was at my place, and the apartment smelled strange. Like this guy, but slightly different.”
“Someone from his same clan?”
“It could be—” She hesitated only for a moment. There was no point in hiding the obvious since Adrian had already discovered her half-breed nature. “But I don’t have much experience with clans.”
“Is not that your small size has made you less ferocious,” he said. “You went against a wolf several sizes bigger than yours.”
“The werewolf attacked you.” My mate, Lavinia thought. My bloodmate—she tried the word in her mind, and it sounded right.
“My little wolf is not only beautiful, she’s also courageous.” Adrian’s lips descended on hers, and she opened to his invasion, wanting that kiss with all her might.
Her hands wound up around his shoulders, pulling him closer. She pressed against him, needing relief from the intense pressure mounting inside her. She ached to feel him inside her. Moving against his hard body, she instinctively arched her throat. The sharp snap of his fangs cleared the sensual fog, keeping her enthralled.
“Not now.” Adrian’s whispered words fanned her skin. He kissed her throat and stepped away. “Soon, but not now.”
Needing to change the subject, she motioned to the corpse and the heart still bleeding on the polished marble tiles. “What are we going to do with that?”
“We let the Directive clean up this mess.” He reached for his cell phone and speed-dialed a number. “Lane? A werewolf just broke into my house. You better come and deal with it.” Pocketing his phone, he rocked her slowly for a moment before he leaned away and took her hand in his.
He walked to the entrance, only to find his door destroyed. “No subtlety whatsoever,” he commented before pushing a credenza in front of the opening. “It’ll do for now. I’ll have it repaired first thing in the morning.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “Let’s clean you up,” he said, and took the stairs, pulling her along with him.
His hold on her wasn’t unbreakable. In fact, she knew she could easily remove her hand if she wanted, but she didn’t. She needed his touch to anchor her. His jacket reached just above her knees, and the silky fabric whispered against her legs at each step. Lavinia’s senses were all fired up from the adrenaline fight, which made her feel more alive than ever.
Adrian led her up the stairs, his fingers tracing circles on the inside of her wrist, making her shiver. He didn’t stop at the second floor but kept on climbing the stairwell to the next floor. They walked in silence, crossing the entire length of a landing filled with more priceless art and antiques. At last, he opened a carved wooden door and held the heavy panel for her.
“My bedroom,” he said.
Lavinia stepped inside an antechamber decorated in shades of gray and cream. A small sofa and bookshelves filled the corner facing the fireplace. Adrian strode toward the opposite door, unveiling the master bedroom to her. A large poster bed occupied a central position in the large space. Framed sepia photographs decorated the walls. Arches divided the room into two areas—the sleeping portion with the bed, and the relaxing corner with sofas and coffee tables. To the right, a door stood ajar, revealing the bathroom.
“Bath or shower?” Adrian asked, stopping in the middle of a mosaic floor that looked like it belonged to a Roman villa, and it probably did. He pointed at the large shower first, and then at the rectangular sunken pool, covering a large portion of the room.
“Shower,” Lavinia answered. “Lane—” At the stormy expression on his face, she amended, “The detective is about to arrive. I don’t want to start anything I’ll have to cut short.”
“If you want to have a bubble bath, the detective is going to wait until we are done.” The way he emphasized ‘we’ affected her body as if he had intimately caressed her.
“Maybe the next time,” she said, eyeing the sunken pool with longing.
“There’s no maybe about it. We will have that bath soon.” Adrian opened the lapels of the tuxedo jacket, and as he had done before, his gaze unabashedly lowered to her breasts. This time, though, he took his time to peruse her naked body. Inhaling, he closed his eyes and smiled. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you—”
His cell phone chimed, and he groaned in frustration.
21
Adrian gave one last look at his mate’s beautiful body and swore under his breath before answering the phone.
“I’m downstairs,” Mark said.
“Give me a moment.” Adrian hung up and leaned in to kiss Lavinia.
“I’ll wash and be right downstairs,” she said, pulling away.
“I don’t own women’s clothes, I’m afraid. Feel free to rummage through my closet, though.” He pointed a finger over his shoulder.
“Thank you.” Lavinia hugged herself, inching toward the shower stall.
“Don’t take long,” he said, then sighed and reached for her hand to cradle her close to him once again. “Please.”
“I won’t. I promise.” She gave him a sweet smile, and he couldn’t help but smile back.
How many times had he smiled and laughed since meeting her less than two hours ago? He didn’t need a calendar to know that it had already been more times than he had laughed and smiled in the last fifty or sixty decades. It felt good. It felt right. Even going through the Vampire’s Thirst seemed like a small price to pay for having found his bloodmate.
Running down the stairs, Adrian reached the foyer on the first floor in high spirits, but the sight of the dead werewolf dampened his joyous mood. He walked the last few steps to the entrance with a heavier heart than a moment before.
Peeking from around the credenza, Lane waited for him outside. “Is Lavinia okay?” he asked at seeing Adrian.
He growled, and Lane sighed. “I realize that she is your bloodmate and al
l, but I only mentioned her name—”
With one hand, Adrian pushed the antique furniture away and motioned for Mark to enter. He sighed, massaging his temple. “It must be this Vampire’s Thirst.” Walking ahead, he steered his friend to the foot of the staircase and stopped in front of the corpse.
“Who’s this?” Mark asked, taking in the carnage as he stepped around the body and the severed heart.
“I have no idea, and Lavinia doesn’t know him either, but she thinks he had a familiar scent.” Adrian leaned against the banister, his senses focused on his mate upstairs. He could hear her moving into the bathroom and relaxed. “He spewed some nonsense about releasing the half-breed to him before attacking.”
“He was after Lavinia,” Mark said, raising one hand when Adrian’s eyes darkened in displeasure. “He was after your bloodmate.”
Adrian knew that his behavior would have been considered excessive even for a newly-mated vampire. Knowing his reactions bordered on absurd didn’t mean that he could change them, though.
“Maybe you could ask Lando if he knows anything else about the Vampire’s Thirst,” Mark said. “It’s worth a shot.” Removing a pair of latex gloves from his jacket pocket, he crouched to examine the corpse. The werewolf had fallen on his stomach, and Mark gingerly rolled him over. At the sight of the man’s face, he turned to Adrian. “Is he from Lavinia’s clan?”
“I told you she didn’t recognize him.” Adrian heard Lavinia exiting the bathroom.
“He has her same Mediterranean traits,” Mark commented, indicating the man’s skin and nose.
“I hadn’t noticed.” Adrian tilted his head to study the dead werewolf. “You are right. There’s some resemblance.”
Mark stood and moved to the heap of shredded clothes by the stairs. Foregoing any comments on the white stripes of silky fabric, he went to poke in the dark denim mound. “There it is,” he commented, picking up a leather wallet he showed at Adrian.
“Anything useful?” Adrian asked after Mark had gone through the contents of the wallet.
“Name’s Bruno Maris. Thirty years old. Trastevere address,” Mark said, pulling information from the driver’s license. “I’ll run him through the system.”
“You do that.” Adrian heard Lavinia reaching the second floor’s landing and turned to look at her as she descended the stairs. A bright smile blossomed on his face.
She had chosen one of his Oxford white shirts and wore it under his tuxedo jacket. Between the two items of clothes enveloping her small body, Lavinia showed less skin than she had when she was wearing the gown, but he found her even more irresistible in his garments. She was a vision he wasn’t happy to share with his friend, but compromises would be made because he couldn’t go maiming every man who looked at his bloodmate.
Offering her his hand, Adrian escorted Lavinia to the floor and kept her by his side, drawing her close to him when they stopped in front of Mark.
“Detective,” she said.
“Miss Rossi.” Mark bowed slightly to her. He gave Adrian a subtle raise of his eyebrow.
Adrian turned to Lavinia. “Is it okay if Detective Lane asks you a few questions?”
“Sure.”
“Can you take another look at this man and see if there’s something familiar about him?” Mark said, waving his hands over the corpse.
“I sniffed a similar smell in my apartment, but besides that—” Lavinia frowned, then cocked her head. “He does look familiar, though.” She hesitated before adding, “He could be a distant relative from my father’s side, I guess.” Shrugging, she looked back at Adrian. “But I honestly wouldn’t know since the clan shunned my father, and even from far away, those bastards actively made our life a nightmare all through these years—”
Adrian felt his blood heat. “Your father’s former clan kept harassing your family even after kicking him out?”
“What’s your father’s clan name?” Mark asked over Adrian’s question.
Lavinia stroked her arm. “Caliban Wolf Clan.”
“Your father was a Caliban.” Adrian’s blood that had burned with indignation a moment ago now became still and cold.
“My father always says that Mom saved his life, that if he hadn’t met her, he would’ve been killed by one of his clan brothers because he wasn’t like them.” She cuddled closer to him. “He would never hurt anyone, and the Calibans are all about violence and purity of the race.” She shivered. “Whatever it means.”
“Did they ever come after you before today?” Mark asked.
“No,” she answered. “Not me, but they tried to hurt my mother, several times. It happened soon after my father was thrown away from the clan and before he left Rome to start a new life under a new name.”
Adrian had a bad hunch. “What’s your father’s original name, do you know?”
Lavinia started shaking her head, then her brow furrowed, and she said, “He doesn’t speak of his past much, but his birth name was Lucas, and I heard my mother talk to my aunt about my grandfather once. I remember them mentioning the name Joshua.” She tilted her chin to look at him.
At her revelation, Adrian swore under his breath, and Mark went still.
Misunderstanding their reaction, Lavinia grimaced and waved her hand in an apologetic gesture. “That’s the only thing I can remember. I’m sorry. As I said, my father’s family isn’t a topic of conversation at my house.”
Over Lavinia’s head, Adrian exchanged a look with Mark before saying, “It’s more than enough. There is only one Caliban named Joshua, and it is the clan’s alpha.”
22
Lavinia stepped forward to face Adrian. “My father is the Caliban alpha’s son—”
She let the concept sink in for a moment. Blinking, she turned to the detective. “Can you check if it is true?”
Lane nodded. “Right away.” He reached for his cell phone and moved toward the foyer.
“It changes things, doesn’t it?” Lavinia asked Adrian.
He extended his hand and pulled her to him. “It would explain the attack tonight.”
“They were at my apartment.” Leaning against his chest, she shivered at the realization that someone as horrible as the dead werewolf had touched her things.
“We don’t know for sure.” Adrian enveloped her in his strong embrace.
A devastating thought formed in her mind, making her feel sick. “What if Carolina is dead because of me?”
“Your roommate’s death isn’t—”
“How can you be sure that she isn’t dead because those sick bastards were looking for me and found her instead?” Heartache and guilt swallowed her whole, leaving a quivering mess in her stead. “I’m here with you, living a fairytale dream when my friend is dead, murdered because of me.”
“Carolina’s death isn’t your fault,” Adrian said, his voice calm as he gently squeezed her arms. “Do not think that.” He hugged her tightly, his hand caressing her back.
Closing his call, the detective strolled back in. “Lucas, age fifty-three, is Joshua Rainier’s only son.”
“That’s my father’s age—” Lavinia said. “I can’t be all a coincidence.” She shook her head.
“It only corroborates that tonight’s attack might be related to the Calibans…” Adrian whispered.
“Bruno Maris—” Lane pointed his cell phone at the corpse “—was a Caliban.”
Her heart heavy, Lavinia addressed the detective, “Carolina’s murder—” She couldn’t finish the sentence this time. “It can’t be a coincidence, too.”
“We were looking for a serial killer, but I will go through evidence one more time.” Lane left them to make another phone call.
“You can’t let that thought fester in your mind,” Adrian said, his voice soft and soothing.
Lavinia started relaxing against him before she stepped away abruptly. “Don’t glamour me,” she said angrily.
Adrian’s eyes widened in shock. “I’d never use glamour on you without explicit consent
.”
“The detective did when he came to talk to me,” she said, and immediately regretted it because Adrian’s eyes darkened and his expression became furious.
“I’ll—” he started saying.
“You’ll do nothing.” She didn’t want Adrian to beat his friend to a pulp, and from the look on his face, that was his intention. “Why was I feeling calmer a moment ago?” she asked, her emotions all over the place.
He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. “Maybe because I am your bloodmate?”
Being raised in a mortal household had made Lavinia ignorant about most of the supernatural culture. She knew that, as a half-breed, her wolf was pathetically small and that she couldn’t heal as fast as werewolves did. Her father had kept her knowledge to a minimum where her supernatural side was concerned and only explained to her those aspects that would affect her day to day life.
“I don’t know a lot about mates,” she confessed, instead of apologizing. “I didn’t even know I was a werewolf until I was five.”
“How’s that even possible?” Adrian’s surprise was genuine.
“Very protective parents. They didn’t want to expose me to the supernatural society before I was mature enough to understand the repercussions of divulging my nature to my mortal friends,” she answered, thinking how absurd her upbringing must have looked to anyone outside her family.
Always running away from the bad guys, her parents had thought that it was for the best to hide Lavinia’s true nature from her for as long as possible. Plans don’t always go as expected, though, and the moment of truth came earlier than they had expected.
“Even so,” Adrian said. “How did you find out?”
“One day, I was at the daycare, playing with the other kids. Someone did something, I don’t remember what, and I got angry. Fur sprouted on my face, and when my mother came to pick me up, she found me cowering in a corner because the kids were making fun of me. The day after, they moved. Another city. Another life.”
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