by Wendy Stone
He lifted his head, his face once more human, eyes no longer glowing. He looked…haunted. He was ghostly pale under the tan of his skin.
“Are you all right?” she asked, her hands cupping his face.
“Ah, yeah,” he said, his voice was a bit shaky.
“Let me down,” she said softly, concerned.
He did, pulling out of her with a barely audible moan. He sank back into the heat of the water, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes were closed and he seemed to be trying desperately to get control of himself.
Terry couldn’t stand seeing him this way. She reached out, touching his arm. “Let’s get out of here,” she suggested.
He began to nod before his eyes zoomed to her neck and the small trail of blood that had dried against her skin. It was that trail that had started the terrible memories. “Wait.”
“What?”
He cupped his hand under the water, letting it flow over her neck, washing the blood off. Running his thumb over the small knick on her skin, he bent his head and planted a tiny kiss against her throat. “I’m sorry.”
Terry smiled. It was such a different side to the strong, arrogant man who seemed to need no one. She kind of liked it. “Come on, if you’re good, I’ll let you dry my back.”
“Honey, I’m always good,” he quipped, making her snort.
Terry hopped out of the shower, her movements drawing Nashe out of the last of his bad memories. “If I promise to be catatonic again, will you do that again?”
Terry glared at him. “Pig,” she said, though there was no heat in her voice. “Come on, I’m hungry.” She held out a towel, wrapping one around her and tucking it between her breasts.
Nashe turned off the water, stepping out and shaking his head like a dog would, getting out of a lake. Terry had just turned around and got a face full of water droplets, her hands coming up to fend them off. “Hey!”
“Sorry,” he grinned, not looking at all repentant.
“At least you don’t smell like a wet dog,” she muttered, giggling when he growled at her.
He reached out, lifting her and planting her butt on the countertop. Terry squealed, slapping at his hands. “Hey, what are you doing?”
Nashe grabbed a towel, knelt down in front of her and stared up into her eyes. “Your ankle has to stay bound, especially since you refuse to use your crutches. I’m going to bind it for you.”
He gently lifted her leg, letting it rest against his stomach as he carefully dabbed at the water sliding down her smooth calf. Then he lifted her foot to dry between her toes despite her squirming and giggling.
“You giggle like a little girl,” he chuckled, setting aside the towel and picking up the roll of ACE bandage that she’d let on the counter. “Tell me if this gets too tight.”
Terry watched him as he carefully wound the bandage around her hurt ankle. He was so gentle, his fingers so tender on her skin. He didn’t hurt her once. Even when he carefully rubbed the self sticking bandage so that it would stay together, he never pressed into the bruise on her skin.
“So you cook, you do a wonderful job at bandaging, you run to the rescue of ladies and sweep them off their feet. Is there anything you can’t do?”
“I can’t sew on buttons. Stupid little things don’t like me.”
“Well,” she laughed, picking up the towel he’d used on her foot and dabbing at the water on his chest, “It’s good to know you aren’t perfect.”
“I’m close, though. Damn buttons,” he teased, laughing with her. He lifted her in his arms again, carrying her back into the bedroom.
“Where are you going?” she asked, calmly wrapping her arms around his neck. She was beginning to enjoy having her own personal pack horse.
“To pick out something sexy for you to wear to dinner,” he said, plopping her down in the center of the bed while he went to her dresser.
“Hey, get out of my underwear, pervert.” She watched as he lifted one pair after another before he settled on something. He brought them over to her, holding up the bright red lace bra and matching thong for her inspection.
“They don’t do a thing for you,” she teased.
Nashe glanced down to where his cock was tenting out his towel. “Yes they do. Just the thought of seeing you in this could raise the dead.”
“That thing’s never dead,” she snickered.
“And aren’t you reveling in that fact,” he quipped, reaching out and flicking her nose. “I can’t help it if the thought of you dressed only in these, with your beautiful hair falling over your bare shoulders, turns me on.”
Terry touched the snarled, dripping mass that hung over her shoulders. “You like my hair? I’d have thought you were more into redheads.”
“Like Marissa?” he asked, waiting for her nod. “She’s pretty. But you, you’re gorgeous.” He bent over her, the twinkle in his eye disappearing as he looked down.
“What’s wrong?” Terry whispered, her heart thudding in her chest.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Terry.”
“Hurt me? Why would you hurt me?” she asked, staring up at him in consternation.
“I’m not like Lukah or Marshal. I can’t get…serious.” He stared studiously at the place where her towel was tucked in, not anxious to hear what she had to say.
His eyes shot to her face when she began to laugh. “Who said anything about serious? Jesus, Nashe, get a grip. You’re a fantastic pillow and your techniques in bed won’t have me kicking you out anytime soon. But I don’t want the happily ever after, long white gown, two-carat diamond, then two-point-four kids and a picket fence kind of life.” She laughed harder, seeing the confusion in his face.
“But…”
“Let’s enjoy what we have right now, Nashe. I’ve seen what can happen when two people marry for the wrong reasons. And from what I’ve seen, they mostly all seem like the wrong reasons.”
A small smile touched his lips. Terry leaned forward and kissed it gently. “I like the fantasy, Nashe. I like the caring and the touching. I like sparring with you verbally. I’m surprised to find that I like you.”
“Surprised? Thanks, I guess,” he snorted, propping his head on his hand and leaning over her.
“No, all I’m saying is that I enjoy you. If you enjoy me the same way, then there’s no need to talk about serious or feelings or any of the gobbly-gook. Let’s just enjoy each other until we don’t anymore.”
“Enjoying as in…sex?” he drawled, his voice deep and throaty.
She shivered. “Definitely, especially if you keep talking to me like that.”
“You’re not interested in…mating then,” he asked hesitantly.
“Mating? You mean what Marissa did? Drinking blood, changing into an animal?” She shuddered. “The sight of blood makes me nauseous. The thought of drinking it would probably have me in a coma. No, thank you. I like you, Nashe, but I don’t want to become your blood bitch.” She laughed, pushing him back against the bed. Trailing her nails down his chest, she pressed her barely covered breasts against his arm. “Now, how about you get out of here and go impress me with your cooking skills. I’ll see if I can find anything to wear that might…inspire you.”
Nashe pulled her down for one long, wet, and demanding kiss, leaving her breathless when he finally let her go. “Yep, that was inspirational,” he grinned, bouncing off the bed and grabbing his clothes. He turned as he was about to leave. “Stay off that ankle,” he ordered, waggling his finger at her, and then was gone.
* * * *
He whistled as he hung up the phone. Dinner would be delivered in about fifteen minutes, if traffic cooperated. It was good to be the owner and to have someone like Sam watching his back. The woman was a phenomenal cook and should be head of her own kitchen. He’d have to give that some thought; maybe when he bought his next restaurant.
“You haven’t even looked yet and you’re whistling. I surprise even myself,” Terry teased, coming up behind him.
Nashe
smelled her first. Luscious sin filled his senses, a mix of musk and spice. There was nothing floral or fancy about it. He breathed deep, turning slowly. A huge fist grabbed him somewhere in the area of his balls, making speech impossible.
A red dress clung to her every curve like a faithful lover. The skirt ended just a few inches above her knees, a slit teasing him with a glimpse of slender thigh when she moved. The halter top left little to the imagination, the material clinging to her hard nipples. In her hand, she held the red bra he’d picked out for her. “I’m sorry,” she said huskily, “but the bra just didn’t work under this dress. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Mind?” he growled, taking a step forward and plucking the soft lace from her fingers. Tossing it behind him, he took another step toward her. “Mine’s turned to mush.” His mouth found the soft curve of her shoulder, left bare by the halter and her upswept hair. “I can’t believe you did this in fifteen minutes.”
“A woman never betrays her secrets,” she sighed as he moved behind her, his hard body pressing against her.
“That’s even better,” he said, moving his mouth to her neck. “A man likes mysteries.”
She bent her head and he swallowed heavily as she bared her throat to him. His lips traced over the throbbing skin of her pulse, his fingers stroking over her shoulders and down her arms.
“I don’t smell anything cooking,” she moaned, shivering as his fingers traced the soft blue veins in her wrist.
“I’m an owner now,” he growled against her ear, nipping at the lobe. “I have people to do that.”
“Ahh, now he’s got people. Does that mean I’ll have to make appointments to see you because you’re the boss and so important?”
“Maybe.” He flicked his tongue over the lobe, loving the way she shivered against him, leaning back on his chest, trusting him. “But I might be willing to make an exception if…”
“If?”
“You’ll let me untie these strings,” he said, grabbing the red knot that held her halter up between his teeth.
“One track mind. I like that in a man,” she laughed, jumping when a loud pounding came at the door.
“Stay here, it’s dinner.” Nashe left her, his eyes never moving from her until he got close to the door. He reached out to open it, finally looking at who stood in the door way.
“Lukah? What are you doing here?”
“Marissa’s gone.”
Chapter Seven
“Gone? What do you mean, she’s gone?” Terry cried, hopping quickly toward the two men.
“I found this in my mailbox,” Lukah growled.
Terry grabbed the piece of paper he waved, snatching it out of his grip. She smoothed the crumpled sheet, holding it up to read out loud.
“We have your mate. If you ever wish to see her alive again, you’ll pay the ransom. Call the police and she dies, call in your family and she dies. Someone will call you at nine tonight.” She flipped the letter over. “That’s it? Was it in an envelope?”
“No, that’s all of it.” Lukah pushed his hands into his already tangled hair and pulled. “I feel like I’m coming apart.”
“You are.” Nashe grabbed his cousin as he began to fall. “It’s the mating process. You and Marissa haven’t been together long enough for it to cement. She’s feeling the same way you are, if not worse.”
“Did you try tracking her?” Terry asked, grabbing Nashe’s sleeve to keep him from moving. “You can scent like dogs, right?”
“Of course I tried. Her scent vanished as soon as I reached the gate to my property. She’s gone.”
“What about the ones that took her, Lukah? Did you pick up anything on them?” Nashe guided Lukah to the sofa and pushed him down on it.
“I’ve never smelled anything like them. It wasn’t a human scent, it wasn’t clan. I don’t know who took her or how they got into my house to do it.” He leaned forward, dropping his head into his hands. “My head feels as if it’s being yanked to pieces.”
“I’ve got to get you home,” Nashe said, looking over at Terry. “I’ll call you?”
“No,” she said, planting her fists against her hips. “Marissa is my best friend. If it weren’t for a mix up on addresses on my part, she would never have met Lukah. I’m not going to sit at home, not knowing what is going on. I’m going with you!”
“It could be dangerous and you’re hurt.” He nodded at her leg.
“Danger is my middle name. If I slow you down, you can leave me. It’ll take me two seconds to change.” She hopped into her bedroom, pulling at the strings that held her halter up, strings he wanted to untie with his teeth not ten minutes before.
“Women,” Nashe sighed.
* * * *
They took Nashe’s Mustang back to Lukah’s, Terry sitting in the back seat. Her head swiveled constantly on her neck as they passed through the wide front gates and drove into the park-like setting.
“Where are we?” she asked, confused.
“This is all Lukah’s,” Nashe said, resting his hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “Around this curve is his house.”
Terry nodded and then gasped as two black shapes raced past the car. The panthers were sleek, lithe and beautiful, the sun glistening off their black fur. Amber cat’s eyes gave the car a passing glance before they bounded off, their gait eating up the ground easily. One gave a shrill scream as they leaped into the undergrowth of the trees.
“Beautiful,” she whispered, her heart beating wildly.
“That was Dimitri and Lucinda’s brother, Marcus.”
“How do you tell them apart?” she breathed, awed by the sight of the two beasts running free.
“To me they are as different as night and day. I guess it’s just something we are born with.” Nashe negotiated the turn, pulling the Mustang to a stop in front of a huge two-story house. “We’re home, Lukah,” he said gently, squeezing his shoulder. “Come on, we have to be ready for the call.”
“Who would take her, Nashe?” Lukah said heavily. “I’ve been racking my brain trying to figure out who among the clans would dare defy our laws and strictures by committing such a crime.”
“We’ll get her back, Luc. I promise you.” Nashe climbed out, holding the door for Terry. He dropped a small kiss on one cheek, brushing the back of his hand over the other one before hurrying to help Lukah.
Terry led the way, opening doors for the two men. Nashe half-carried, half-walked Lukah inside. His cousin’s face was pale, his skin felt clammy and a fine line of sweat gathered on his forehead. He held his head, growling low in his throat at the pain.
“Luc,” Nashe said urgently. “I’m going to give you something for the pain. You have to be lucid when they call. They’ll know if it’s you or not on the phone.”
“No drugs,” Luc moaned. “I can feel Marissa inside of me. She’s in pain, Nashe. She needs me.” He struggled to get away from his cousin’s hands. “I’ve got to go to her.”
“No, Luc, it’s the mating. That’s what is causing the pain and the feeling that she’s there. You can’t give in to it. You have to be strong.”
“I am strong!” Lukah growled, pushing away from Nashe and turning to face him. “You don’t want me to find her. You want her for yourself!”
“Luc…” Nashe began, holding up his hands. “You know that isn’t true.”
He sank down on the sofa, the same long sofa where he’d set Marissa the very first night he’d met her. “I know,” he groaned, his hands sinking into his hair. “I can smell her.”
Nashe began to speak, only to be interrupted.
“You bring another of them here?” Lucinda asked from the entry into the living area. “Another human,” The disgust in her voice dripped off her words.
“Lucinda, now is not a good time,” Nashe began, glaring at his cousin.
“It isn’t for you to say what is or is not a good time,” Lucinda snarled. “Half-breed.”
Nashe’s eyes narrowed and his cheeks turned ruddy, whether w
ith embarrassment or anger, Terry couldn’t tell. He took one step toward the hoity woman, only to see her flinch and step back.
Marshal walked up beside her, his gaze roaming over the curvaceous brunette. “Is everything all right?” he asked.
“F-fine,” Lucinda answered, her eyes on the ground. “I was just going to my room.”
Marshal nodded at Nashe and Lukah, his eyes passing over Terry as if she wasn’t there. “If you need help…” he said quietly.
“We’ll call,” Nashe nodded.
“Come, Lucinda. I’ll escort you to your room.” He held out his arm and Lucinda hurriedly took it, flinching as she took her first step.
“What the hell was that about?” Terry breathed, staring at the couple.
“I think Lucinda is finally learning who the boss in their relationship is,” Nashe grinned.
Terry’s eyes narrowed and she gave him a look full of how she felt about what he’d said. “She’s the one that was at my apartment.”
“Yeah, her and her mate, Marshal.”
“Marissa,” Lukah growled, coming unsteadily to his feet. “She’s calling me.”
“What’s wrong with him?” Terry asked, taking a step back as Lukah turned and glared at her.
“He needs his mate,” Nashe said simply. “We need to find her, and soon.” He turned to Lukah. “You trust me don’t you, Luc?”
“Yes,” he growled, nodding even as he stumbled forward. “I trust you.”
“Then let me find Marissa. You’re in no shape to go up against anyone.” Nashe grabbed Lukah, wrapping his arms around his cousin and holding on tight. “I’ll find her, Luc. I’ll bring her home to you. I promise,” he whispered into Luc’s ear. “Trust me.”
Lukah stared at him, at the green eyes of his cousin, the man who’d been through so much. “Yes,” he finally whispered painfully. “Yes, find her.”
“Terry, go up stairs and find Marshal, the man who was just in here with Lucinda. I want him to come and stay with Lukah. Tell him what’s going on. He’ll understand, he’s newly mated himself.”