by Lisa Daniels
“The way you say that – you put yourself in a bad light,” Yanus said.
Frey frowned disagreement. “No. I tell the truth. I know my motivations. I've never pretended that I had that cute, innocent desire to find love in my brother. I wanted to usurp him from my parents, because I hoped if they saw how much he loved me, maybe they would love me too.”
A glint of a tear welled behind Frey's left eye. Despite her harsh, flat tone, and the effort to fixate now on a point beyond Yanus, the memory of the emotion conjured up deep-seated pain. The eternal neglect and desperation for her parent's love still radiated on her worst days. “Didn't work. But I got an awesome brother out of it.”
Yanus gave her a sly glance. “Does your brother know? What you did?”
“Yes. He knows everything.”
“For the record,” Evo said suddenly, making Frey jump in surprise and Yanus to shake in silent laughter, “I'm glad she didn't stab me. She's a good sis.”
“You fuckers.” Frey grinned nonetheless as her brother wrapped her in a hug.
“Clean up is done now.” Evo shook Yanus's hand firmly. “We'll look after you for as long as we can, Armanev. Keep your head low in our hotel, though. You'll have people seeking you.”
“Thanks.” Yanus met Evo's icy blue eyes. Then, he gave a wicked smile. “So. Is your sister single?”
Frey almost dropped her cigarette as Evo replied, “Oh, yup. Please, by all means, take her. She can do with some lightening up.”
“I'm a funny woman. Full of humor and laughter. I don't need any lightening up.”
Evo gave her a long stare, one unimpressed eyebrow raised.
“Okay. Maybe I can be a little serious at times,” Frey amended, spreading her lips in the cheekiest smirk she could muster. “But you love me.”
“I do. Go for it, dude.” Evo slapped Yanus on the shoulder. “Make her scream.”
“Yeah... I'm going inside now,” Frey said, stubbing out her cigarette and sauntering into the hotel. “Lady has to sleep at some point. It's stupid o'clock.” Excitement danced inside at the thought of Yanus showing keen interest. The circumstances could be better, of course. Accepting Luelle and Yanus Armanev into Springmoon Hotel as damaged fugitives rather than traveling guests did dampen some of the joy.
“Maybe I will at some point,” Yanus said, his voice dipping into a suggestive growl.
Frey winked at him. “We'll see.”
Chapter Four
Over the next two weeks, Luelle recovered. She went from an immobile, broken husk of a creature, forced to endure something impossible to one who could now wake up to the fact that she was free – no longer a prisoner of her husband and his former wife's son.
Frey observed the improvement with a mix of satisfaction and worry, because although it was good Luelle could function without any notable mental trauma from the ordeal, she didn't know how much longer they could conceal her in the shadows of Springmoon hotel.
Yanus confirmed to Frey that his parents had replied to the message sent two weeks ago, but not to express their concerns over Luelle. They wanted to know his location out of fake concern for him, and he flat out refused to tell them.
“I don't trust them,” Yanus said, lounging in the bar of their hotel one evening, with everyone else sprawled out around sofas, taking their drinks from beer bottles. “They also wanted to know about Len. He was meant to be meeting up with them.”
Luelle gave a hysterical giggle. Her werewolf regeneration covered most of the injuries, leaving just the faint hint of a scar on her right arm, where teeth had ripped through at one point. Without the swelling of bruised flesh over her face, and the purplish mash of skin, she looked like a perfect female twin of her brother, with dark hair and glass green eyes. Evo sat next to Frey with one leg crossed over his knee. Emma and Horace lay curled up with each other, with Emma slowly drifting off into a light sleep. Johan, the quirky Belgian, had remained in the hotel a good sight longer than anyone anticipated, so in the spare time allocated, they made him work around the rooms cleaning up.
“My dear husband,” Luelle said, raising her bottle in a mockery of custom, “may he and his disgusting family rot in the graves waiting for them.”
“I'll drink to that,” Yanus growled, clinking glasses with her.
In the spare moments between conversation, Yanus took the opportunity to keep glancing over Frey's form. She donned a low-cut yellow dress that displayed a scandalous amount of cleavage. Her walnut-toned skin appeared glossy in the gentle room light, and her hair puffed out for once, almost touching her bare shoulders. In a deliberate imitation of what she scented on Yanus, Frey had sprayed herself with a subtle mint perfume.
Over the two weeks, Yanus had found more chances to get Frey alone, to talk to her and dig more into her thoughts and past. Something about her fascinated him – the strange woman of werewolf parents who had once tried to kill her beloved sibling.
Having his attention made Frey feel normal and worthwhile. She sometimes worried or believed that a person like herself was fundamentally unlovable. No one wanted a truth-speaker, a person who spoke to the dark thoughts in their mind and gave each one a place. It drove potential friends away because in return, she saw something of their darkness.
Being in tune with her thoughts made her see the motivation of others.
“You fascinate me,” Yanus had said two days ago, over a serving of river trout. They sat on a separate table, as Luelle bonded better with the staff of Springmoon Hotel. “I feel like there's a question mark over your head, which marks you out as someone to take notice of. When you walk into a room, I have to look at you. I can't explain it.”
Frey smiled, adopting some of her trademark straightforwardness. “You're attracted to me because I'm unlike anything you've seen or heard of before.”
Yanus stopped picking at his fish, and fixated emerald irises on her. “That's true. It also happens to be because I think you're a good looking woman. You are also,” he said, leaning forward with a wicked smile, “exactly the kind of person that would cause my parents to die of heart attacks.” He had traced his fingers over the top of her knuckles, making her shiver. No one appeared to notice the action, wrapped up in their own conversations.
“Is that so?” Frey asked, heart thudding faster, excitement and arousal brewing in her blood. Faint stirrings of a dream she had forgotten came to life. A dream of finding someone. Of being attracted, and being liked back just as strongly.
“Yes,” Yanus whispered. His fingers traced up her arm, before curling under her chin. “To think someone like you has been hidden under our noses all this time. I've been looking in the wrong places for a mate.”
The casual drop of mate made Frey gasp. The more she got to know Yanus, the more she noted his strong personality, the convictions behind his actions, and the utter belief that he would never become the person his family expected.
She wondered if he honestly planned to claim her as his mate, even though they might end up departing too soon for something deep and beautiful to happen.
The conversation played in her mind now, as they all engaged in small talk over drinks on the sofas, relaxing instead of delving into fear and worry.
In all the flings she'd had, often with human males, she had never completely filled the absence that lingered inside. She could not share the secrets of her world with a human male, and to marry one meant giving up the magic of the universe she lived and breathed in – even if that universe treated her like a leper. She still paid homage to its people and gave them a sanctuary to rest in, discreet and restful in the confines of Bulgaria.
I wouldn't have minded visiting the mineral baths with him. Have all of us relax – except he can't even peek his head out the door without some risk of being spotted.
She imagined what it might be like to have Yanus touching her skin, kissing her neck and laying her down upon a bed. What his voice sounded like as it whispered into her ear, or his lips breathed hot air onto her neck
like the crackle of a storm. Jolts of pleasure wriggled into her bones, and her body melted into the sofa, tuning out the others around.
How long had it been, since a fantasy had taken hold of her this way?
“We've got some new werewolves visiting us in a week,” Emma said, stretching against her partner. “So we'll have to be careful.”
“Did you catch the name?” Evo asked, as he downed the rest of his beer and burped loudly, prompting laughter and cheers.
“Arina Vasilev and her partner.”
Luelle, who had been relaxed against her brother, sat upright, eyes like saucers. “What? Arina?”
“You know her?” Evo placed his empty bottle on the floor. Yanus stared at his sister.
“I've heard of that name...”
“She's a human!” Luelle said. “She was the human we all played with in the village.” She flushed at the attention. “Me, Ordri, Danny and Markus. I'm sure that's her full name.”
“A human?” Frey sat forward, baffled.
“Well, she obviously knew about werewolves,” Emma said. “Her partner was registered as Mark Vasilev.”
“Is he a human, too?” Evo said, but Luelle gasped.
“It's Markus Spirova. She's coming here with Markus.”
Dead silence fell at those words. Yanus breathed deeper and faster, a wild look overtaking his face.
“We can't stay here,” Yanus said. “I can't let the Spirovas find out we're here.”
“No, wait,” Luelle said, holding up a hand to stem her brother's sudden panic. “This is Markus we're talking about. Where's he and Arina coming from?”
“America,” Emma answered.
An idea inflamed Frey's brain. “He's the one who made a new clan in America, right?”
“Oh, yeah. I heard about that,” Evo said, clicking his fingers. “He completely took over a state in a few years. Fast moving guy.”
This confused Luelle. “Wait. If Markus is in America... who is running things here?”
“Elinor. She's Alpha.”
Luelle sank into the cushion of her seat, as if her soul had now expired out her mouth. “Wow. I am so out of touch.”
“You were stuck in Russia without much contact for a while. It's understandable,” Evo said, smiling. He saw Frey hovering at the edge of her seat. “Wait... what's with you?”
“Everyone. Markus is Luelle's friend, right?” Frey clasped her hands together in barely suppressed excitement, the idea shining like a light bulb in her mind. “Why not smuggle Luelle and Yanus with him back to America?”
Emma held up one thumb. “Start the Bulgaria to America werewolf trafficking ring. Excellent.”
Although doubts continued to surface, they eventually conceded that maybe instead of turning tail, it might be good to not dismiss Arina and Markus out of hand. Of course, they also needed to know the true purpose of their coming.
Luelle's knowledge of Arina and Markus had vanished the day she got shipped over to Russia and taken into the fold of evil.
Frey didn't know a great deal about the clans, but she did think that someone who decided to leave Bulgaria completely and make a new life in America suggested someone with a differing attitude to the older families here. The fact that an Alpha had also chosen a human cemented her conviction.
Luelle and Yanus would be safe in America, far from the wrath of the old ones.
Yanus, however, didn't seem so convinced. Long after conversation had packed up, he joined Frey by the balcony of her hotel room for her customary smoke, and they stared at the stars together, which dotted the clear evening skies, along with a half-moon.
“I'm grateful for everything you and Evo have done for us,” he said, though Frey saw the doubt clinging to his features. “I just don't know if this is a good idea.”
“What other ideas have you had?” Frey countered, tucking one arm under her elbow as she inhaled her red Winston cigarette. “Honestly?”
The werewolf's handsome face fell into depression. “I expected we would need to flee to another country. I didn't want to, because I knew it would mean giving up everything. But I also knew I needed to. Because my sister doesn't deserve this shit. I'm delaying, really.”
“You are,” Frey agreed. “Give Markus a try. He might surprise you.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because I'm not stupid.”
Yanus sighed. “I suppose I'll have to take your word for it. Speaking of stupid...” He pulled her back in from the balcony as she finished smoking, and wrapped her up close. “There's something I've been wanting to do with you for a little while...”
The way he smirked at Frey made her heart dissolve into fragments. That kind of gaze was exactly the sort that made panties melt and clothes mysteriously fall off.
“Like this.” He twirled her around, and pushed her into the wall next to the balcony. With the mint scent permeating her nostrils, a series of tremors went through her as he met her lips with his. How long had it been? How wonderful did this feel?
For some reason, the touch leaked out a few tears from her eyes.
Frey was tough, independent, forging a path for herself despite the lack of love. Yet, it was all she ever wanted or craved.
Love. Acceptance. Her eyes fluttered shut and she indulged into the kiss, her lips caressing his, tasting the salt and moisture there, having his hot breath meld with hers and his palms cup her scalp. She began tearing at his clothes, maddened with lust by his expert kissing, the way he moved in time with her, and the way his tongue thrust into her, seeking her warmth, tangling up and bringing something she had been longing for years.
“You feel good,” she whispered into his mouth, holding him close. She liked the stubble on his cheeks, the way his thin dark hair scrunched up in her fingers, and the erection that pressed against her thigh.
He continued his slow caress, even though Frey wanted him there and now, taking her with aggression and power. He chose the firm but gentle path, giving Frey the feeling that he worshipped her with his touch.
Could a werewolf ever truly choose her above anything else? Did Yanus see her as a potential love or as a source for rebellion?
She didn't know, or care. She only wanted him to keep touching her and to never stop.
He clawed at her dress, finding the zip at the back and tugging it down, unveiling her bare breasts, and, as he helped her out the flimsy material, he also relieved her of panties and heels. She helped him peel off his top, feasting upon his bare chest for the first time. She ran her palms over the smooth, hairless contours, the perfect white skin that contrasted with her dark shadings, breathing in the strong mint scent of him. Her mind floated, her body mellowed into his touch. Her nipples stiffened against his chest and he moved against her slowly. Her panties became drenched from the stimulation, and her emotions fluctuated, going from aroused to sad to happy all at once.
She'd always wanted to be touched like this, in a way that made her heart lurch and thump these alien sensations through her. The emotions continued to spiral, making it hard to focus, to know which feeling should dominate, but Yanus helped with that.
He whispered into her ear how beautiful she looked. He admired her soft skin and the scent that covered her body, which he claimed reminded him of peaches. He ran hands through her frizzy hair, and helped her out of the last item of clothing, before twisting them around and bringing her to the bed. He lowered her onto it and then kissed along her neck, breasts and stomach, his hands circling the curves of her body.
Frey shuddered and rolled her eyes back when he moved his mouth to her entrance, collected the wetness there, and then flicked his tongue over her bundle of nerves.
Electrifying surges hit her with each flick. Her body twitched involuntarily, unable to process such tortuous stimulation. She cried out as he dug deeper, pressed his tongue harder into what she dubbed as her orgasm generator, and she thumped her head against the pillows several times, finding the feeling almost too much. How could something so s
mall generate so much pleasure?
Yanus dug his hands into her thighs, bracing himself and steadying her as she writhed under his touch, sometimes enjoying the feelings, sometimes finding it too much. It felt good to be treated like a queen and worshipped. He continued licking, sucking and providing sensations to her, sending her mind far above the world it dwelled in.
“I can tell,” he whispered into her, the vibration making her shudder, “that you're not used to being treated kindly.”
Frey ran her hands over the white bedsheets, the material rustling her skin. “I'm not,” she admitted, feeling both joy and shame at the same moment. The shame occurred because of the fact she had never properly experienced deep infatuation. She knew of crushes, sure, like how she sometimes crushed on a celebrity, or someone who appeared hot – but crushes like that didn't mean she wanted a relationship with those people. You could be sexually attracted to someone but not love them.
Something about Yanus made her mind wander, and contemplate the notion of finding a relationship. He loved his little sister. He was prepared to give up the world for her, and Frey knew she had that same fanatic desire inside.
Yanus might just get to see the demons inside and accept them. The electricity crackled in the atmosphere, heated up the space between them, and her thighs trembled from the mounting pressure as Yanus touched her. Just before she came, he stopped the torment and peeled off his pants and boxers at last, revealing a hard, long erection. A sense of thrill and ecstasy went through her, and she helped bring him up to her lips, tasting herself in them as he buried inside at last. He filled up the empty space and she welcomed him with a cry, clinging to him tight as his muscles rippled above her. Sweat beaded his forehead as he moved with her, rocking their bodies over the sheets.
His mint scent flared up her excitement further, and her heart raced so fast that Frey thought it would thunder out of her chest. The excitement transformed into climax as the endorphins rushed through her body, illuminating all her cells like the fairy lights of a Christmas tree.