Deceit can be Deadly (Law of the Lycans Book 8)

by Nicky Charles

  “Expecting an ambush?”

  “It’s happened before. A bit of caution never hurts.”

  He walked to the mini-bar as she sat on the edge of the bed. “Would you like a drink? There’s soda or juice. Or, if you’d like something stronger I can share my private stock with you.”

  “You have a private stock? I’m intrigued.”

  He opened the closet and reached up towards the shelf. “When I didn’t think I’d get to sample your private stock I bought my own.” He exited the space, holding up a half-empty bottle of Rémy Martin.

  “An excellent choice.”

  “I only share it with my friends.”

  She smiled. “And am I one of your friends?”

  “I’d like to think so.” He splashed some cognac into two glasses. “Sorry, there’s only standard issue hotel glasses.” He grimaced as he passed her the beverage.

  “I’m not that fussy.”

  He raised his glass. “What should we drink to? The end of my search for the malefic witch? The eradication of the family curse?”

  “What about…new beginnings?” She caught his gaze and smiled.

  “New beginnings?” He paused, searching her face. “What exactly does that pertain to?”

  “Us.”

  “Ah. That sounds…promising.”

  They clinked glasses and sipped at their drinks in companionable silence. When they were finished, he took her glass and set it down beside his own on the nightstand, then drew her into his arms.

  “I’m attracted to you, Gwyneth.”

  “And I’m attracted to you, too.”

  “Last time we tried this, it didn’t end well.”

  She looked up at him through her lashes. “I promise to watch my language.”

  He smiled as she’d intended him to but when she moved to kiss him, he stopped her.

  “It’s not just the language, Gwyneth.”

  “I know.”

  “I want this to mean something. I care about you.” He cupped her face. “I want to share myself with you, get to know you better and not just physically.”

  She turned her face to press a kiss to his palm. “I feel the same way.”

  He smiled and drew her close, kissing her slowly, softly before tracing the seam of her lips, asking for something deeper. She opened to him and their tongues touched, explored, learned the taste of each other as the heat of passion slowly grew into an undeniable need.

  He trailed his hands down her back to the edge of her shirt then worked his hands beneath the hem. Warm, smooth skin met his questing palms.

  She mimicked his actions, tracing the indent of his spine, causing him to shiver. When he would have eased them down on the mattress, she shifted her weight so she was on top, his back pressed to the mattress.

  “I get to go first.” She smiled down at him, a mischievous sparkle in her eye that jacked his arousal up a level. With excruciating slowness, she began to undo his buttons. “You seem to go through a lot of shirts,” she commented. “Good thing Sam let you borrow one of Damien’s.”

  “Feel free to rip it off me, if you want. I doubt Damien will want it back after I’ve worn it.”

  The dark humour made Gwyneth pause, her hands resting on his chest. “He’ll come around eventually.”

  “Perhaps.” He gave a sad smile then reached up to twirl one of her curls around his finger. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin the mood.”

  She leaned forwards and pressed a kiss over his heart. “You didn’t, but even if you did I know multiple ways of rekindling it.”

  “Multiple?”

  “You don’t live as long as I have without learning a few tricks.”

  He grinned. “I can’t wait for a demonstration.”

  She proceeded to push his shirt out of the way as her hands traced his body; his shoulders and pecs, lingering on his flat male nipples before she repeated the exploration with her mouth. As she flicked his nipples with her tongue, her hands worked on the fastening of his jeans. The cooler air of the room brush his skin but her hand quickly replaced the warmth and he groaned under her skilled touch.

  “Your talents are…commendable.” He couldn’t help arching into her touch.

  “I’m glad you approve.”

  Leaning over him, her hair brushed his skin bringing the nerve endings to tingling awareness and he reached up cupping his hand around her neck and urging her down for a kiss that was deep and wet and hungry.

  All too soon she eased away and stood, quickly peeling off her shirt, jeans and shoes, revealing her milk white skin. He could see her pink nipples through the lace of her bra, the hint of red curls through the matching panties.

  He stood and removed the rest of his clothing, his gaze devouring her the entire time. “You’re gorgeous.”

  She gave a derisive laugh. “I’m interesting. Unique. Even fascinating at times, but gorgeous? No.”

  He reached out and captured her breasts, thumbing the nipples through the material. “I know what I like. Lithe, muscular.” He skimmed his hands down her ribs then up and around to her shoulders. “Smooth, white skin. Soft, sweet lips.” He gathered her close.

  “You’re a lying devil,” she murmured against his mouth.

  He kissed her softly, gently. “A connoisseur.” Lifting his head, he changed the angle of the kiss. “Of all things.” He paused and looked deep into her eyes. “Fine and rare.”

  He settled his mouth on hers, deepening the kiss, exploring, learning her taste. She reciprocated, tongues duelling, her fingers raking through his hair. He removed her bra, slid his hands down to her hips and under the band of her panties. She shimmied them off and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close again so they were skin to skin.

  Her scent surrounded him, filling his lungs, fuelling the fire that burnt within. Bending he swept her into his arms and laid her on the bed.

  As she settled on the cool sheets, she stared up at the man standing before her taking in his broad shoulders and narrow hips, the jutting cock and powerful thighs. Heat pooled low in her belly.

  “And now it’s my turn.” Holding her eye with his, he reached for the glass of cognac on the bedside table and dipped his finger in the contents then painted the liquid on her nipple.

  “Wasting your private stock?”

  “Never. Merely enhancing the taste.” He leaned over and licked her nipple clean, murmuring his approval. “Perfect.” He repeated the gesture with alternate breasts until her nipples were aching and hard then proceeded to paint a streak of the liquid down her stomach following the path with his tongue until it reached her navel. Setting the now empty glass aside, he moved lower, nipping her hipbone, licking the tender crease of her thigh before moving lower still.

  The feel of his hot tongue lathing her tender flesh had her writhing and when he finally slid up to join them together she was aching with need. “Damn, you’re good at this.”

  He chuckled then kissed her tenderly as he eased into her.

  She exhaled slowly, savouring the exquisite fullness.

  “You okay?” He was trembling, his muscles taunt.

  “Mmm.” She grasped his buttocks, pulling him deeper.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  He began to move, a slow pace that gradually increased, growing ever harder and wilder, as desire stripped away their self-control leaving only a raw need for release. She gripped his sweat-slicked back, straining to reach that perfect moment. Dante was panting, a rumble rising from his chest. Her vision blurred, every muscle clenching, her fingers raking his back, her teeth biting his shoulder and then a prick of pain in her neck sent her spiralling out of control, waves of pleasure to crash over and over until she was limp and gasping for breath.

  “Good work, Lycan.” She gasped the words, her eyes closed.

  Dante grunted, his face buried in the crook of her neck.

  She lazily stroked his back, frowning slightly as she felt the score marks on his skin. “Sorry.”

  �
��Hmm?”

  “I scratched you.”

  “And bit me,” he mumbled.

  “Really?”

  “It’s okay. I bit you, too.”

  The remark drifted through her mind, only gradually taking on meaning. He bit her! She abruptly pushed him off her and sat up, her hand going to her neck. The skin felt tender and, when she checked her fingers, there was a streak of blood. “Did you just try to blood-bond with me?” She glared at him.

  “You bit me,” he pointed out. “It had an effect on me but I managed to hold back and only give you a nip.”

  “Oh.” Surprisingly, she felt a twinge of disappointment.

  “I’d never do that without you being fully aware.” He pulled her down and kissed her then tucked her to his side.

  She exhaled slowly, deciding to leave the topic for now. Dante’s fingers were idly twirling strands of her hair, the gentle tugging sensation soothing.

  “Who’d have thought it would come to this?” The sound of his voice, a mixture of husky and raspy filled her with contentment.

  “This?”

  “You and me.” He rolled over and, propping himself up on his elbow, looked down at her. “My many times over great grandfather deceived you, your grandmother cursed my family and now we’ve come full circle.”

  “Tomas was a bastard.” She said the words without emotion. The pain of his betrayal had faded long ago.

  “So am I at times. Must be in the genes.”

  “Must be.” She reached up and brushed her knuckles over his cheek.

  He eased down and kissed her tenderly. “That’s what I like about you. You don’t pull your punches.”

  “I’m a cold, unfeeling witch, remember?”

  “How could I forget?” He murmured the words against her lips while sliding his hand down the length of her body and then up again to cup her breast.

  She nipped his lip, then laughed at his affronted look.

  He chuckled as well and tucked her close once again, resting his chin on top of her head. Silence followed, the companionable kind that occurred between those in tune with each other. Gwyn idly pleated the bedsheet. Her earlier contentment in the afterglow of sex had faded leaving an unfamiliar disquiet. She tried to analyze it but before she could, a question slipped from her lips.

  “What will you do with yourself now?”

  “I’ve no idea. Stay with you perhaps.”

  Her fingers stilled on the sheet. He wasn’t asking. He was telling. “That’s brave of you. I’m not an easy person to live with.”

  “I’m willing to chance it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I love you.” His tone was light. Casual.

  “What?” She sat up, staring at him in shock. “Why?”

  He folded his arms behind his head and gave a crooked smile. “Because you glare at a person when they say they love you. Because you’re spirited and can banter with me. You’re loyal to your friends. And because you’re not as tough inside as you appear on the outside.”

  She opened her mouth to deny his statement but he pressed a finger to her lips.

  “I know the truth no matter what you say.” He stroked her cheek, then his finger trailed along her jaw, down her throat and finally traced the scar over her heart. “Your scar is different.”

  She shifted knowing the moment of truth had come.

  “It used to be like a crescent moon and now it’s more heart-shaped.”

  “Crescent moons reversed and facing each other form a heart.”

  He sat up. “Gwyneth, what did you do?”

  “I was thinking about what you said. That not all walls are meant to last for eternity.” She gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I decided it was time to start living again. I reversed the blood spell so time was restored.

  “Wasn’t that risky? If time was restored, you could have disintegrated into dust.”

  “But I didn’t. Except for being a bit tired, there were no ill effects.”

  “But what if there had been?”

  “I thought of that. I asked Matt to take care of Sherman. I left you a note in the cellar explaining. My collection was bequeathed to you, by the way. I figured you’d appreciate them.”

  “I don’t give a damn about the contents of your wine cellar.” He threw back the covers and began to pace the room, oblivious to his naked state, anger radiating from him. “How dare you try something like that without telling me?”

  “How dare I? I didn’t realize you were my keeper.”

  “I love you. That gives me some say in what goes on in your life. What if you’d died? Did you stop to think how I’d feel?”

  She pressed her lips together and looked away. “I didn’t want our relationship to be like the one I had with Sven.”

  “Your tattoo? I thought you said you had a great relationship with it? And what the hell does that have to do with us?”

  “Not Sven the tat, Sven the man.”

  He folded his arms. “Explain.”

  “I knew you cared for me. If we continued as we were, it would be like Sven all over again. He’d loved me but I was unable to return the emotion. We stayed together, but I’d selfishly condemned him to a one-sided relationship.” She stood up and wrapped the sheet around herself, then walked over to the window to look outside. “At the time, a long life and guarding against being hurt had been more important to me than Sven’s feelings. Independence, keeping my pride intact; I believed those were the keys to happiness but I was deceiving myself. The supposed key was a cage, locking up both myself and anyone foolish enough to care for me.” She turned to face Dante. “I couldn’t do that to you.”

  “Gwyneth,” He walked to where she stood and pulled her close. “I was ready to love you, to stay with you, even if you never said the words back.”

  “But I want to say them.” She stepped back, took his hands in hers and considered his eyes. A nervous quivering filled her, a moment of doubt as if a voice inside were trying to warn her. He’s an accomplished liar. He says he loves you but can you trust his word? What if he’s just like Tomas?

  No. She shook her head. Dante was nothing like Tomas. She took a deep breath, then another. Her heart began to race. “I…” Her mouth went dry, her lips balking at forming the words she wanted to say. “Dante, I…”

  “You can do it, Gwyneth.” He nodded his encouragement, a sense of expectant hope about him.

  She wet her lips and finally spoke the words. “Dante Salazar, I love you.”

  “Gwyneth, you’ve made me the happiest of men.” He smiled at her, his love shining from his eyes.

  She reached out and stroked his cheek with her thumb, then pressed a tender kiss to his lips. “I really love you.”

  Pain as sharp as a knife ripped through her. She staggered back grabbing her chest, gasping for breath.

  “Gwyneth? Gwyn!” Dante reached for her.

  “I…” The room began to spin. Heat seared through her. “I love you.”

  “No!” He grabbed her shoulders but she could barely feel his touch through the agony that wracked her body.

  She blinked, sweat beading on her brow and dripping into her eyes. “I do. I love you. I—” Her throat grew tight.

  “No! Take it back. I don’t care if you can’t love me back. I don’t want to lose you.”

  “I can’t.” Her legs gave out and she fell back on the bed. “This shouldn’t be happening.” She panted through the pain. “I reversed the spell.”

  Dante stared wildly about the room, his brow furrowed, then snapped his eyes back to her. “The generational curse. You removed it from Damien and the baby but you didn’t remove it from me.”

  The curse? She’d forgotten that.

  The voice in her head began to speak again. That’s the only reason he said he loved you. He wanted the curse gone. It’s another of his deceitful games.

  He didn’t love her? A wave of doubt washed over her but it was too late now. Tears welled in her eyes and she let them fall. It w
as too late for pride.

  “Gwyneth! Remove the curse. Remove it now!” He shook her, his voice rough, demanding.

  Let him suffer for his deceit, the voice urged.

  No, she loved him too much for that. But how to remove the curse…? It was hard to think through the pain.

  “I remove the curse once.” She struggled to say the words, her lips not wanting to move, the voice in her head demanding she not speak. “I remove the curse twice.”

  Something warm and sticky seemed to be seeping from her chest. She tried to look, to see if she was bleeding.

  “Finish it, Gwyn!” He was yelling at her now. “Finish it!”

  His anger hurt her more than the physical pain she now endured. “Thrice I…” She arched her back in agony.

  “Gwyneth! You need to say all the words.” His fingers bit into her flesh.

  “I…remove it.” Her vision faded, darkness encroached. “Be happy, Dante.” She mumbled the words and then succumbed.

  Being dead wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be. She lay on something soft. Someone was bathing her brow. Yeah, she could handle this.

  “Grow old with me?”

  The words tickled her ear and she frowned.

  “Grow old with me, Gwyneth?”

  She batted her hand randomly at the annoying voice that had disturbed her rest. She felt odd. Too hot. Was she in Hell? It was a possibility as she’d certainly never been a candidate for Heaven. Her mouth felt dry and she swallowed with difficulty. “I want a drink.”

  A soft husky laugh sounded nearby. “That’s my girl. No romantic words or thanks for saving you. Just ‘I want a drink’.”

  She forced her eyes open. Dante was sitting beside her. “What are you talking about?”

  “I saved your life. The least you could do is give me a word of thanks.”

  She pushed herself up into a sitting position. “You did not save my life.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  “I gave up my life by admitting I loved you.” She scowled. “Stupidest move I’ve made in centuries.”

  “No. Forgetting to uncurse me was your stupidest move.”