by Leia Shaw
“All right, querida. We’ll just do as before. You liked that, right?”
She nodded and leaned back.
He pressed his mouth onto hers then whispered between gentle kisses, “Relax, cosita. Siempre voy a cuidar de ti. I will always take care of you.”
When her body melted against his, he nudged her thighs back open. He slid down her body planting wet kisses as he went. Her neck, her chest, one on each breast, one on her flat belly. Then he wrapped a hand around each of her slender thighs, keeping them pressed open as he lowered himself between them.
“Marcelo?”
“Don’t fight me on this, querida. You need it.” He parted her wetness. “I need it.”
Her protest was cut off when his tongue made the first sweep on her sensitive flesh. She gasped and lifted her hips when he circled her clit lightly with the tip of his tongue. He teased her, not allowing her release until he was sure the pressure was built so high she would never forget when he finally brought her to climax.
“Please,” she breathed, digging her nails into his scalp.
He shuddered. Gods that feels so good. Using firm, slow strokes he licked her until she was writhing so much he had to hold her tight to keep her from slipping away. He looked up at his stunning mate. Her delicate cheeks were pink, her breasts bounced with each movement. Instinct roared, proud and pleased he could satisfy her. Her scent was delicious, sweet and fresh like honeydew. He replaced his tongue with his fingers and brought his lips to her ear.
“What’s my name, little temptress?” he rasped.
“W-what?”
“I want you to say my name. Now.”
A confused irritation crossed her features. “Why?”
“Because I need to know it is me you crave,” he growled in her ear. “That it is me you think of when you come. Not your human boyfriend. Me. The vampire who will win your heart. The vampire who will make you his.” When she hesitated he nipped her ear. “Say it.”
“Marcelo!” she cried out as he squeezed her clit.
***
Time stopped as waves of intensity rolled through Aila’s body all the way down to her toes. She must have been screaming but could hear no sound. She couldn’t feel the leaves under her body, or see the stars above her. The only thing she knew at that moment was Marcelo’s wicked, magical fingers. He brought her over the edge then slammed her back down, shattering her from the inside out. She could scarcely breathe. After what felt like hours, it finally ended.
Feeling sated and more relaxed than ever, she gazed into Marcelo’s gorgeous eyes. He brushed the hair from her face and kissed her forehead. She reached up to stroke his cheek but he grasped her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing her palm instead. Her heart skipped a beat.
Oh shit. Am I falling in love?
Suddenly she was pinned under his body, her arms held tight above her head, his hips shoved between her thighs, erection pointed straight towards her –
“What are you doing?” she said in a panic, trying to snap her legs shut.
“I’m not finished with you yet,” he answered with a delicious smile.
Mmmm…those lips. No! No, no, no. I’m not ready for this!
Then she was taken away, far from Marcelo’s loving embrace. She was back in Albany, thrust deep into repressed memories. The dead leaves of autumn rustled below her, scratching against her skin. A body was heavy on top of hers. The blackness of the night sky seemed endless. Hot, musty breath stank all around her.
She panicked. Her heart pounded in her chest, tears stung her eyes. “Marcelo, stop!”
With a frustrated growl, he did. He sat up on his knees and took a few calming breaths before turning his attention to her. “Why, Aila? What are you afraid of?”
She avoided his gaze, and his question.
“Damn it, tell me!” His sudden bellow made her flinch. “Is it your boyfriend?”
She knew in her heart she should tell him the reason for her fears, but she just couldn’t find the words. When she felt his heated gaze studying her, waiting for an answer, she cleared her dry throat and said, “Sort of. Look, I’ll return the favor, okay?”
“Favor?” His eyes lit with fire and ice. Anger seeped into his voice. “Aila, I am not one of your boy toys that you need to manipulate to get what you want!”
She blinked. Why should he be angry when I only offered to help him? Did I offend him? And did a vampire really just say “boy toy”?
He pushed away from her and grabbed his clothes from the ground.
“Where are you going?” she snapped.
“To get food,” he growled. “Stay here.”
Like she was going anywhere in the dark forest by herself. Wearing just those jeans again, he padded off, disappearing into the trees. She pulled on her clothes then sat by the fire, her arms wrapped around her knees.
Goddamn moody vampires! One minute he was bossing her around, the next he was raving about her smile, and then he just stormed away when she’d only offered him what he’d given her. What did he really want from her? Was all of this just to get in her pants?
They still had at least two days before they reached the door – though he’d said nothing about where it was or how to find it. She’d already succumbed to his gruff brand of charm more than once. Could she cut off all intimate contact for the rest of the trip? And what would happen once they reached the Underworld? Would he disappear and continue his quest like he’d said? Her heart dropped at the thought.
She heaved a frustrated sigh. It was clear the two of them had chemistry, at least physically. In truth, it was more than chemistry. Marcelo was sex on a stick. What woman wouldn’t succumb to that?
She rubbed her hands over her weary face. This was getting too complicated. This…thing…she had with Marcelo…it was just a fling. She had a boyfriend.I have a fucking boyfriend! Granted, he hadn’t so much as texted her in two days.
“If you were mine, thoughts of you would be in my mind endlessly.”
Marcelo had said it earlier, and by God, it was probably true. Damn him.
Damn him to hell for being so irresistible! She almost wished she’d never met him. Why couldn’t Sage have escorted her to the Underworld? Or at least have sent someone less attractive. Way less attractive.
She rested her head on her knees wondering where she would sleep tonight, when something whizzed by her head and landed with a thunk into a tree beside her. It was an arrow. A soft whimper of fear escaped her before she noticed something dangling on a string wrapped around it. A note? Someone was sending her a message? She walked to the arrow and tore off the handwritten note.
“Want to know your destiny, prophesied one? Ditch the vampire and meet me on the west side of the lake.”
She turned in a circle peering into the woods, searching for signs of movement. Was someone watching her as she read this? Shivers crept down her spine. Creepy.
Now the question remained, should she go, or shouldn’t she? Pros: Someone knew something about her destiny and may be willing to share it. Cons: Marcelo would be pissed.
Been there, done that. Curiosity got the better of her. Surely Marcelo could find her if she screamed for help. That was what vampire bodyguards were for, right?
Having full confidence in him, and forced confidence in herself, she left the comfort of the campfire and headed towards the west side of the lake. The only reason she knew which way was west was because Marcelo had taught her while they had been tracking. Score one for the vampire.
Ten minutes later she was halfway around the west side of the lake. She froze listening for signs of company, scenting the air like Marcelo had taught her. But she sensed nothing. She clenched her fists.
“Where’s your magical faery powers now?” she muttered, forgoing all stealth and stomping across the rocky beach.
If she hadn’t been so annoyed with herself she might have heard the footsteps before the tall figure stepped out of the tree line. She watched him warily as he walked towards
her, brimming with that supernatural confidence every immortal seemed to have. He wasn’t human. No human could have been that silent. He didn’t smell like a vampire either, though she couldn’t be sure only having met one. Marcelo smelled exotic and warm and earthy all at once, but underneath that, on a baser level, he smelled like blood.
The mysterious not-human’s skin was so pale it almost glowed in the moonlight and she had the urge to introduce him to the concept of tanning beds. But like a good diplomat, she held her tongue. His long hair, pulled back in a ponytail, was just a couple shades darker than his skin.
Then she saw his ears. Christmas elf ears! Could he be fae? Or maybe there were other species with freaky ears like hers.
Glowing, not-human stopped a little more than an arm’s length away. His rounded eyes focused intently on her, though they appeared friendly.
“Hullo. I’m Kieran,” he said in a thick Irish accent. “I’m the prince of the Unseelie fae.”
A fae! A real live fae standing before her. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. She grunted. How annoying. At least she wasn’t hyperventilating.
“You’re Aila, yeah?”
She nodded.
“I’ve come to tell you, when you’re ready to meet your destiny head on, you can call on me.” He flicked a business card between two fingers and held it out to her.
Seriously? A fae prince has a business card? She took it. It read, Kieran Whelan, with a US phone number beneath. She turned it over. Nothing.
“Strangest business card I’ve ever seen,” she muttered to herself.
“Aye, so it is.” He chuckled and held his other hand out. “Here you go now.” In his open palm lay a small plastic vile filled with clear liquid. “If you be wantin’ ta meet me, dab this on, like perfume. It’s a cloakin’ potion. It’ll cover you scent. Case you wantin’ ta leave your vampire.”
She took the bottle, nodding dutifully, though she had no plans to use it. Kieran watched her, his emerald eyes narrowed as if making some judgment based on her reactions. She looked down at her clothing – ragged hiking shorts and a sweaty tank top. Her hair was probably a mountain of frizz. In fact, she could feel sticks and leaves stuck in it. She sighed. Great first impression. If the birds nest in her hair failed to impress him, her nervous grunting was sure to.
He, on the other hand, had the look of royalty, from his angular face and regal posture down to the modern yet tailored fit of his mint colored button down shirt and khaki pants. Not many men could wear pastels and still manage to look like they could hunt down some predatory animal, cook it up for dinner, and then use its hide to make you a purse. But Kieran pulled it off.
He smiled, which leveled him, gave him a certain boyish charm. “I ken you must have many questions. You’ll be gettin’ the truth from me, lass.”
She did have many questions, about the fae, about herself. Foremost, were they evil? She opened her mouth to speak but stopped when his head snapped to the side, his eyes narrowing at something in the forest. His nostrils flared, the tops of his pointed ears twitched.
He turned most of his attention back to her. “It was very nice meetin’ you, Aila Quinn.”
“But –”
“You’d better be goin’, lass. Your hunter returns.”
Her eyes widened. She’d better be goin’ was right. She thanked him for the potion, which she shoved in her pocket, said goodbye, then sprinted back to the campsite as fast as she could. She saved herself a lecture by returning before Marcelo. Sitting down against a tree she tried to catch her breath.
Two dead rabbits flopped onto the ground by her feet and she screamed. A large hand clamped over her mouth. Marcelo came into view and knelt in front of her before releasing her mouth.
With a furious glare he hissed, “What is wrong with you?”
She looked at the rabbits, bloody and broken, and her bottom lip trembled. “You…you killed them.”
“Of course I did. This is your dinner.”
Something snapped. She was shocked and sad when she’d first seen them, now she was livid. Killing defenseless furry creatures for her? Stupid male! “I’m a vegetarian!”
His hand clamped over her mouth again. “Stop shouting,” he grated. “We are not alone in this forest.”
Did he know about Kieran? Before she could ask what he meant, an eerie sound in the distance chilled her to the bone. Breaking the silence of the night was a very loud, very clear, very close…wolf’s howl.
Marcelo’s usually unshaken demeanor changed. A slow wave of recognition hit. His nostrils flared, his eyes widened, and his fangs pressed against his bottom lip though he tried to conceal them.
We’re in trouble.
Chapter 11
Marcelo jumped to his feet. “Pack your things. Put out the fire. I’m going to lay a false trail.” He tensed and stared into the trees around them.
Aila gaped, unable to make her muscles move. She could barely hear his directions over her heartbeat drumming in her ears.
“Give me your shirt,” he said holding out his hand.
“W-what? Why?”
“There’s no time for questions. Your shirt!”
She pulled it off, leaving her in just a bra and shorts, then handed it to him. He was gone in an instant. The air was still warm but she shuddered, her arms were covered in goose bumps. She spied his t-shirt still lying on the ground and pulled it on, tucking half of it into her shorts.
Earlier that day, Marcelo had provided a backpack full of energy bars and water. She slung it onto her back and kicked dirt on the fire, then waited for him to return.
She was paranoid, every little noise made her jump out of her skin. Five anxious minutes later, he appeared before her.
With a sobering look he said, “Run.”
Her eyes went wide as he reached for her hand. Shit, this is bad. Then she was dragged through the trees, sprinting as fast as her feet could carry her. They zig-zagged through the terrain in no discernable pattern. There was movement all around her, shuffling leaves, footsteps, trees creaking, but she’d yet to see an enemy.
“You have to go faster than that,” Marcelo said.
“I can’t.” She was already panting, her muscles burned with each step.
Footsteps grew closer, heavy breathing sounded from behind them. She bit down on her lip and pushed her legs to move faster.
They broke through the trees into a clearing surrounded by cliffs at least one hundred feet high. Marcelo stopped and she barreled into him. He inhaled a deep breath, turned the opposite direction, then started to run. Since he still had her hand, she was forced along until he halted at the other side of the clearing. He turned them the other way, took a few steps, then stopped again.
Aila was sweating, hardly able to breathe, and her legs wobbled beneath her. She was so happy to have stopped running she almost didn’t care what chased them.
“Why are we stopping?” she asked him between breaths.
Instead of answering, he shoved her behind him, his gaze glued on something at the edge of the trees. She couldn’t see anything with his large frame barricading her. The urge to peek was overwhelming, but he nudged her backward towards the cliffs looming above them. He kept his body in front of hers, shielding her from the threat.
“Stay behind me,” he commanded.
She nodded – on that point she wasn’t going to argue. His body stiffened. Aila stood on tiptoes to see over his shoulder into the line of trees.
Three enormous beasts – monsters from her worst nightmares – stepped slowly out of the blackness of the forest. Standing on two legs – though they looked like they could run on four – they were covered in bulging muscle and patches of black fur. They would have blended into the shadows of the night if not for their white fangs flashing in the darkness.My, what big teeth you have.
Their faces were lupine, their ears stood up like a wolf’s and twitched with each noise. They didn’t have hands, they had claws, each one like a curved knife
. They were taller than Marcelo by at least half a foot, which meant they’d towered over her by at least two feet. She rubbed her eyes, unable to believe something this horrifying existed.
Their black beady eyes were fixed on her. She’d been bitten by a Rottweiler mix when she was twelve, had spent years afraid of dogs, sometimes she still had nightmares about it. These creatures had the same savage look in their eyes. Only worse because there was intelligence there. It awakened some terrifying place within her.
Their fangs snapped together as if trying to intimidate her. It was working.
This is it. This is how I’m going to die.
Aila had heard in a philosophy class that there were times in a person’s life when they had the chance to prove their worth, to show the world what they’re made of, to laugh in the face of fear. This must be her time. This was her chance to prove, once and for all, if she was a man, or a mouse.
Well, not only was Aila a mouse, but a trembling one, happy to cower behind the fattest, most tender looking mouse she could find and hope the hunter went for him first. Yep, that’s me, always the go-getter.
The beasts stepped closer, surrounding them on three sides. Aila slid further behind Marcelo, grasped onto the back of his jeans and buried her face into his shirtless back. She couldn’t stop a small squeak as her body trembled against his. Marcelo’s words from days ago flashed into her mind.
“If you’re going to be afraid, querida, make it something worth being afraid of.”
She wondered if he found this situation worthy.
Oh, fuck him! These are damn scary!
He must have felt her shaking because he reached around and gave her arm a squeeze. “Shh,” he said. “I won’t let them hurt you.”
She almost laughed out loud. Marcelo was fast and strong but there were three of the deadly beasts and only one of him. All it would take was one swipe of those nasty claws and she’d be dead. Marcelo may have started training her to protect herself from a human attacker, or maybe another fae, but there was no way in hell she could fight a werewolf that looked straight out of Van Helsing.