by Leia Shaw
When he lowered his mouth to her neck she didn’t stop him. She trusted him not to take her blood without permission. His teeth scraped lightly against her skin sending sparks down to her toes. He kissed his way to her collarbone, grazing sharply then licking the small sting away. He brought one hand between their bucking bodies and pressed on her throbbing clit. She almost flew out of her skin.
Her free hand grabbed onto his head, threading through his hair, holding him tight while she moaned and writhed beneath him.
Suddenly he stood up straight, grabbed her under the knees and raised her hips for deeper access. His thrusts were ruthless now as he slammed into her over and over. Their bodies slapped together, luscious and wet. Her cries grew louder, more desperate, as the pleasure mounted. She was on fire. She ached for release. Just…a little…more…
He stopped. She whimpered. Wordlessly he flipped her over, positioning her on her hands and knees in the middle of the bed. He didn’t touch her at first. She was cold and bare without him. Impatient, she growled, but then his hands were on her. Light fingers traced a path down her spine. She shivered. Then he plunged into her, steadying her with hands gripping her hips.
He remained still for a moment, filling her with his length until she wiggled against him, urging him on. He wrapped her long hair around his fist and gently tugged her head back. She followed his lead rising up to her knees to meet his mouth in a firm kiss. He held her at his mercy, proving he would take her when he wanted and no sooner. Surrender. Trust. He wanted it all.
Finally he released her, placing her hands back on the bed. He slammed into her sheath so hard she fell forward onto her elbows. But it felt good.
God it feels so good! He did it again, this time grunting with the force of it. She rocked forward but stayed on her elbows. She’d never felt so exposed. So erotic, so raw. She was trusting her body, her soul, her very life to Marcelo. And he was demanding no less.
Pressure built within her, muscled turning to jelly, pleasure singing through her veins. She couldn’t take anymore. She was going to shatter into a million pieces.
“Marcelo,” she pleaded, needing him to slow down. She was so overwhelmed her heart and soul were about to be ripped wide open. She couldn’t handle it.
“It’s all right, querida,” he said softly. “I’m here. Let go.”
He flipped her on her back and covered her body with his. She was pleased to have his warm body in her arms again.
“Come, Aila,” he commanded, pushing as deep as he could go. “Come now.”
Her breath stopped, her heart pounded in her ears. She was on the edge and it was killing her. But something was missing.
“Wait,” she breathed. “I want you to take all of me. I want to give you all of me.”
He froze in place and looked down at her with such tenderness and love, it made her eyes well up.
“Drink,” she ordered, turning her head to the side, baring her throat to him.
“It is not necessary. I would still feel complete without it.”
She smiled, her vision growing misty from unshed tears. “Please. It’s my gift to you.”
He kissed her cheeks, then her eyelids. “I love you. Te adoro, mi vida. How I love you.”
He surged into her at the same time as piercing her flesh. She gasped in shock but as he dragged the first mouthful of her essence into him, her whole body tingled with pleasure. Her eyes rolled back as she arched against him. Her blood readily left her, entering her mate, become part of him. His. As he was hers. Forever.
She screamed as she floated into bliss, her body pulsing with untamed energy. Alive but in heaven. Something out of this world. Marcelo followed, feasting on her blood, his hips still pounding into her even after his release.
They lay like that for a few minutes, panting and sweating, Marcelo still inside her, almost crushing her with his weight. Finally he rolled off and sprawled across the bed, chest heaving, heart pounding.
“Holy fuck,” Aila said, breaking the powerful silence.
Marcelo chuckled. “I’ll say.” He pulled her into his arms. “But there was nothing holy about it.” He kissed the top of her head and ran his fingers up and down her bare arm. Goose bumps covered her body. Would she ever be immune to this man?
“So, my god-kissed mate, what do we do now?” he asked.
“Well, before I start working with the fae, I have a little errand.” She looked up into his puzzled eyes. “Ever been to Las Vegas?”
“Yes. Why?”
“I owe a dragon a favor.”
He sighed. “Don’t we all.”
She cuddled closer, tucking her head into the crook of his arm. “I’ve got a lot of responsibilities now.” One hand stroked his naked chest. “Are you sure you want to stick around?” A teasing smirk tugged at her lips. “I think I could handle it by myself.”
His muscles tensed. “Try it and I’ll tie you to the bed.”
She laughed until he flipped her beneath him and kissed her breath away.
Destiny Unchained
Coming Winter 2012
Chapter 1
Crouched on the ground Natalia crept silently through the leaves, her sharp gaze focused on her target. The black wolf blended into the shadows of the thick trees shrouded by the cloudy midnight sky. Natalia had tracked it by scent. The distinct odor of smoky pine invaded her nostrils. Gods I hate these creatures.
As if it could read her mind the wolf turned on her and snarled, its teeth gleaming in the darkness. The growl would have sent the toughest human screaming through the forest. But nothing scared her. Especially not some barely out of the cave Cro-Magnon that sprouted fur and fangs once in a while.
She tightened her muscles ready to spring at the beast. A husky male voice sounded from behind her.
“Don’t even think about it, vampire.”
Though it disturbed her that she hadn’t noticed his presence, she kept still, a vision of confidence. Three men stepped out of the trees, each with an arrow trained on her. Well, if it isn’t Robin Hood and his merry men.
“Put your weapons on the ground,” the werewolf ordered. “Kick them toward me.”
She made no move to obey. “Bow and arrow? How nostalgic.”
“It’s effective. Want a demonstration?”
She guessed the question was rhetorical so she gave it no response.
“Didn’t think so. Weapons. All of them. I know you have at least a dozen on you. You reek of metal and rust.” His lips curled in amusement. “Who do you think you are, The Terminator?”
Two of the werewolves chuckled. The blonde was eerily silent, but his gaze never left her face. A flash of gold on his coat caught her eye. A badge. Rangers? Werewolves were working at Yellowstone as rangers?
The werewolf interrupted her thoughts. “Don’t make the mistake of testing us, vampire. My patience is dwindling.” He said the word “vampire” with a sneer that would have offended her if she had cared what anyone thought of her.
She reached down to her calf to grab the first knife, holstered under her fitted leather pants. The werewolf’s voice stopped her.
“Slowly,” he commanded.
She nodded, showing full cooperation. When she had the knife in her grasp, the familiar feel of cold metal on her skin, she flung it at the werewolf to her left, lodging it deep into his throat. Men really should stop underestimating her.
Natalia leapt into the air avoiding the first of the arrows released. Upon landing she lunged for the nearest archer reloading his bow. She kicked him in the chest, commandeering his arrow. With an easy toss it landed in the black wolf as it sprung toward her. A savage yelp echoed in the forest. She smiled inside.
Her feet were swept out from under her but she landed deftly then jumped back up. She ducked under the first flying fist. A werewolf could usually beat her in an arm wrestling match but they had nothing on her speed. Grabbing his arm when he swung at her again she used his momentum to send him stumbling across the terrain. With him
off balance it was easy to snap his neck. His body slumped in a heap on the ground.
She spun to face the last werewolf. An arrow sliced through the air a fraction of a second before she could react. Pain erupted in her chest, burning agony overwhelmed her senses. It took some effort to maintain her usual calm. She looked down. Nothing more disturbing than seeing a pointy weapon lodged in your chest. Especially knowing it would hurt like a bitch when she pulled it out.
“I really liked this shirt,” she told her assailant.
The silent blonde stood perfectly still, mimicking her earlier vision of confidence. Only it looked better on him.
Finding a werewolf attractive?That’s new.
She lifted an arm to pull the arrow out, gritting her teeth at the expected pain. Her limbs felt heavy. Her knees wobbled and her mind thickened with fog.
Poison arrow.
Shit.
She collapsed on the ground, her captor’s heavy boots her last vision before she faded.
Chapter 2
Natalia woke in a hazy stupor. She kept her eyes closed, waiting for the memories to surface. Ah, that’s right. Werewolf ambush. And she’d walked right into it. She assessed her environment. It was still night, of that she was thankful, since vampires were allergic to the sun. She inhaled the cool autumn air. Pine trees, fresh water, local game, werewolf. She wasn’t far from where she’d been ambushed.
And she was bound.
She opened her eyes. A campfire crackled several feet away. On the other side the blonde werewolf who’d shot her sat on a log using a rock to sharpen something. An arrow head.
“Where are the rest of your merry men?” she asked.
He kept his gaze fixed on his work. “Just me, for now.”
“Lucky me.” She experimented with her binds. If the werewolf had any experience with vampires he would know there wasn’t much that could hold them. She struggled with all her might to break through them, but to no avail.
So it isn’t ordinary rope. Most likely it had wolfsbane threaded through it, a common herb used to weaken vampires. He’d probably purchased the damn thing from a witch. Always causing trouble they were, blessing some, cursing others. Natalia knew all about witch blessings.
The mystery man had done a bang-up job with the knots as well. Her arms were twisted behind her, tied at each wrist then secured around the tree. Her legs were bound together at the ankles with the end of the rope resting beside the werewolf.
So she was dealing with a professional. A pity. It would hold things up.
“I don’t suppose you can loosen these?” she asked drily. First step in any escape plan was to ask to be released. It almost always didn’t work.
He looked at her, his expression bemused. “Not until I know you won’t be a problem.”
“Define problem.”
“In a word? You.”
A werewolf with a sense of humor? That was new.
“So, you’re a bounty hunter?” she guessed. “Which unlucky bastard do you work for?”
He picked up another arrow and began sharpening it.
“What’s my bounty up to now?” Last she’d heard it was ten thousand. Of course, that was a few decades ago.
“A hundred grand,” he answered.
“Not bad.” She was flattered.
He stopped his task and studied her with narrowed eyes. “Why do they want you?” She couldn’t tell if he was impressed, disgusted, or merely curious.
“I kill werewolves,” she told him without hesitation.
He didn’t flinch, or growl, or show any sign of anger. Strange. They were always angry about that.
“And why do you do that?” he asked.
“Because I like to.” It was true. But she told him so because she wanted to see his reaction. “And I’ll kill you too.”
His eyebrows darted up. “Interesting thing for someone in your position to say.”
Her position. Feeling the ache in her shoulders she looked down at her binds. “A minor inconvenience.”
A dark, husky chuckle came from across the fire. Did he just laugh at me? She’d been sneered at plenty, but genuine laughter was a first.
“So you’re a vigilante?” he asked.
Sort of. “Yes.”
“How’s that working out for you?”
So he was curious about her too? Or maybe he was attempting to distract her from her escape. Silly doggie. Didn’t he know she was a weapon of perfect focus?
“Before now,” she answered, “beautifully.” Well, that may not have been the best word. Mostly it was bloody, nasty business – with no workman’s comp – but surely he knew that.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
Enough. First lesson in escaping captivity, once the questions started to get personal, it was time to go. She tuned the werewolf out, concentrating only on her environment. She studied every sound, identified every scent. From the tree roots jutting from the ground, to the closest body of water, to low hanging branches, and even the smallest rocks on the ground. When she broke free of the binds – and she would break free – she would use anything she could to escape. One never knew when a sharp rock may be the difference between life and death.
“Will you make me torture you for answers?” the werewolf asked after she’d been silent for a few minutes.
So it’s going to be like that. She sighed. “No. You’ve most likely taken my wallet. I won’t withhold information you already have.” She wanted to gag at the repetition of it all. Who are you? What are you doing here? Why did you kill my brother? Blah, blah, blah. “I was merely concentrating on my escape plan. My name is Natalie.” Well, according to her driver’s license.
Her captor rose gracefully from the log. If she had any doubt he was a werewolf before, she had none now. He was huge, as all werewolves were, at least six and a half feet tall with broad shoulders and thick muscles that made the standard ranger uniform a little snug. But it was his eyes that caught her attention. One was brown, the other baby blue. The effect was unnerving. She tried not to stare.
“What are you doing in Yellowstone, vampire?”
She arched a brow. “Feeling territorial?”
“Answer the question.”
“Do you really think it will be that easy?”
“So you will make me torture you?”
Her eyes narrowed into her best threatening glare. “Fair warning. I really don’t like being tortured. It puts me in a foul mood.”
“Let me guess.” His mouth curled up in mocking amusement. “Bad things happen when you’re in a foul mood?”
“Let me put it this way, the last time someone tried to torture me, I fed his balls to a pack of wild dogs.” The werewolf had had it coming. He hadn’t been her intended revenge but he had sufficed until she could catch up with the man she really wanted to castrate. Her mate.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” was his only response to her gruesome threat. “So, Natalie, huh? A very nice American name.” He stood in front of her, his arms folded over his massive chest. “But you’re not American, are you?”
“Perceptive,” she said, “for a dog.”
He shook his head slowly, disapproval written all over his face. “You’ve got a lot of nerve. Here you are, tied up with my rope, in my territory, and you’re mouthing off?”
“Nerve, I have an abundance of. What I don’t have is my weapons.”
“Nor will you get them. Did you forget you tried to kill me?”
“You started it.”
Impatience flared in his eyes. “You were about to take out that lone wolf!” The amused arrogance was gone when he took another step towards her. “How did you hear about the wolves’ blood? Who sent you?”
I guess fun time is over. “What wolves’ blood? I have no idea what you’re talking about. And that wasn’t a lone wolf. It was a dangerous rogue werewolf. Can’t you tell the difference?”
“Answer the question.”
“You answer the question.”
&n
bsp; Two blonde brows darted up. “Who has who tied up?”
She looked at her binds. “Irrelevant.”
He laughed.
She stared at him. When his chuckles faded she asked, “What’s the name of my temporary captor and soon to be dead man?”
He hesitated only a moment. “Cristian.”
She couldn’t hold back a mocking smile. “Cristian? Cristian the werewolf? That’s rich.”
He smiled, his teeth white against his lush lips. “My mother was human, just like yours…” he paused to look in her wallet, “Natalie from Wisconsin.” He snorted.
She shrugged. Well, as much as she could with her arms tied behind her back.
“You don’t look like a Natalie.” He stooped down so they were eye-to-eye. “You changed it, didn’t you? To sound American.”
Since it was none of his business, she ignored him.
Using a knuckle he stroked her cheek. Her eyes widened. To her own surprise she didn’t snap at him with her fangs. But why did she like the feel of his skin on hers?
“What’s your real name?” he asked in a buttery voice.
She had to purse her lips to keep the answer from spilling out. What the hell was going on? It was almost as if he had some power over her. Must be the wolfsbane, she reasoned. She’d been near it too long.
“You’re too beautiful to be Natalie. Won’t you tell me your real name?” He smiled warmly and tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.
She couldn’t comprehend the strangeness of the encounter. Werewolves wanted her dead. All of them. They wanted to beat her, stab her, cut out her heart, burn her alive, etcetera, etcetera. She knew this because they’d told her so. On more than one occasion. In fact, there was probably a blog somewhere out there on the web sphere dedicated to the ways she should die. But never, ever did they want to caress her. Was this some kind of trick?