by SF Benson
I’ll get over it. Eventually. Edwina said it was decades ago. Ain’t like I thought she was a virgin. Besides, Luc seems happy with Inés. He poses no threat.
Tyson also occupies space in my thoughts. What the hell is going on with my baby brother? After he left Falls Creek with Sheila, I wrote him off. Figured I’d never see his ass again. I know it makes me a shitty sibling. Our father made me swear on his deathbed that I’d make amends with Tyson. Now it looks like I have to live up to the vow.
Can’t forget Captain’s demeanor this morning either. The Falls Creek PD isn’t the FBI. I have no business poking my nose into NOLA PD shit even if it involves my brother. I smell a rat, and it doesn’t have four legs and a tail.
Months ago, when that situation went down with Cash and his mate, the human leaders and Council met. The verdict? Humans want supernaturals out of town. It goes against the founders’s wishes and the accord. But the current town’s leaders want us out of their businesses. They want us out of their government and law enforcement too. If Captain Miller is setting me up for a fall, he’s messing with the wrong being. I ain’t going out like that.
My beast rumbles beneath my skin, jumping at the chance to be freed. Unfortunately, changing too near Edwina’s watchful eye isn’t a good idea. Shame has nothing to do with it, and it’s not about protecting her. She’s not that fragile.
Transformation is a painful but necessary process. It’s even worse to watch. But my unwillingness to reveal my beast in front of Edwina is about privacy. I’ve never changed in front of anyone other than Sheila. My beast likes the shadows. Appreciates his secrecy. What can I say? It’s what I am.
I step into the abandoned house on the property. A small cat stops in its tracks, takes one look at me, and hisses before running off. I chuckle as I tug my sweater over my head, and place it on the crumbling counter along with the rest of my clothes.
The first wave hits me like a fucking seizure. Intense rippling contorts my hands making me gasp. Groaning, I reach for the counter. Miss and hit the floor with a loud thud. Breathing hurts like a mother fucker. While I struggle for air, shrill snapping permeates the space around me. My beast continues to claw forward, lengthening and flexing my spine. Sharp pangs twist my gut while sweat pours down my temples. Slowly, my thoughts unravel. My head drops, and with a roar, my humanity slides away.
An ocean of blackness swallows the lingering shadows by the time I return to Edwina’s place. I’m still naked, too spent to bother dressing. Slipping inside, I notice her sitting at the kitchen island with a glass in hand. Her head turns, and she’s focused on me. I’m overly aware of my sweat-glistened, funky body.
“Angel, give me a moment to shower,” I say and head toward the bathroom tucked in the rear of the first floor.
I push the door shut behind me and lean against it. Edwina put a lot of effort into creating the perfect spa environment, something any human would envy. The clean, white surfaces—marble, glass, and chrome—are sullied by my muddy feet. I’ll take care of it as soon as I’m done.
I twist the square nozzle, and hot water cascades over me like rain falling. A separate massaging water head caresses my aching muscles. I’m lost in my thoughts when I hear the faint sound of the door clicking closed. Glimpsing Edwina’s luxurious body through the steam makes my dick twitch.
A cool breeze hits me as the glass door opens. My gaze creeps up over her dainty ankles, toned legs, perfect breasts—Edwina has the type of body to drive any male wild with desire. My dick gets harder.
“Hey, handsome,” she drawls as the door snaps shut.
“Couldn’t wait?” I lick my lips, anxious to taste her.
“No, I couldn’t.”
Edwina steps beneath the water. Beads of moisture trickle over her breasts. My beast urges forward, wanting to lap up every drop.
Down boy. She’s mine.
I try not to watch the water traveling over her warm brown skin straight to her pussy. It’s a sight too heavenly not to behold.
“Hank.”
Her voice grabs my attention, and I look up. She’s holding up a shower sponge and a bottle of soap.
“Wash my back.”
The scent of black orchid, her scent, tickles my senses. “Turn around.”
Edwina, bending over the bench attached to one wall, exposes her backside, and I nearly lose it. Growling, I drag the sponge across her beautiful skin. She has me mesmerized.
“Rinse me, Hank.”
Lifting the handheld nozzle, I spray water over her. She sighs. The sound goes straight to my crotch. When Edwina places her hands against the wall and kneels on the bench, my beast pounces and approaches her from behind. Rubbing my dick across her tight ass, I tell her, “I want you. Now.”
She looks over her shoulder. “That was the idea.”
No foreplay required this time. My heavy erection presses against Edwina’s opening.
“Ah, shit,” I shout.
Gentleness takes a back seat as I bury myself inside her cold body. Just for a moment, I don’t move, relishing the feel. When I’m deep inside Edwina, her coolness calms my beast and makes everything right in my world. But the moment passes, and I’m ramming her hard. Angel meets every single thrust.
Friction on friction, we pummel each other to the edge. Edwina’s pussy tightens around my dick, and my balls echo their own response right before I explode within her. As my orgasm tears through me, I slam my hand against the wall. Cracking and popping, reminiscent of my beast emerging, fill the stall as the subway tile splinters.
Reluctantly, I pull out, open the shower door, and grab a towel. “Sorry about the wall.”
Edwina stands, flicks her wrist, and the damaged porcelain repairs itself. “It’s not the first time that’s happened.”
I’m not asking.
I’m relaxing on the sofa when Edwina finally comes down the stairs. She’s wearing a silky, black sheer gown, and I’m turned on all over again.
She notices the goblet of crimson on the coffee table and glides over to me. “Thank ya.”
“Anytime, Angel.” I kiss her cheek and try to focus on something other than her body.
Edwina takes a long sip before asking me, “Hank, why were ya so upset earlier? I don’t think I’ve ever heard ya roar outside of the bedroom.”
It’s a topic I don’t want to explore, but I know it needs to be discussed. “Did you know I had a sister?”
“No.” Edwina faces me and tucks her legs beneath her. “I’d love to meet her.”
“You would have liked her.” I scrub a hand over my face. After all this time, it’s still hard for me to tell anyone about Jennifer. “Jenn was the middle kit. Tyson and I were always looking out for her. Trying to protect her from all the dangers out there.”
“Ya talking about the narrow-minded humans in Falls Creek?”
“They’re not the only ones. Other cats can be just as dangerous.” I stare off into the distance, unable to continue.
Edwina inches closer, places her hand on my arm, and says, “Hank, ya don’t have to tell me if ya don’t want to. I can tell it still hurts.”
Lifting my hand to my mouth, I say, “You know I tried to tell my father that his choice of partners for her was wrong.”
“Partners?” Edwina cocks her head. “Prearranged marriage? I thought panthers took mates like wolves.”
“We do, but it doesn’t happen all the time,” I admit.
“So, Sheila… Was she your mate?”
The expression on Edwina’s face is unreadable, but I have nothing to hide. “No. Sheila wasn’t my mate. I’m still waiting to claim mine.”
Edwina’s lips curl up slightly before she takes a sip from her goblet. “Continue telling me about ya sista.”
“Yeah.” Pulling air into my lungs, I exhale deeply before continuing. “Our father in his infinite wisdom paired Jenn up to a violent ass cat—a supreme dick named Jackson Ryder. Jackson never cared about anyone but himself. For some reason, my father cl
aimed the biker would protect Jenn and be a strong provider. He failed to recall the bastard was only good at beating the shit out of people who crossed him.”
“Where’s ya sista now?”
“In a better place.” Even now, after all these years, it’s still hard to say that Jennifer is dead. Saying it aloud makes it more real somehow. “I hope Jackson’s ass is burning in Hell. He ripped her throat out, and I returned the favor.”
Edwina gasps.
I shake off the memory. “That’s why I got so angry when you told me about Lucas. I don’t believe any beast, human or supernatural, should make a female feel unimportant or weak. If my father had stayed out of it, I could have prepared Jenn. Helped her find someone worthy of her. Made sure no ass put his paws on her.”
“What about ya mama? Did she have any say in what happened to ya sista?” Edwina mutters.
“Mom was trapped by tradition. She would never go against my father. Thankfully, he’s dead and gone. Mom is finally happy on her own. I make sure she’s protected though.” Reaching for Edwina, I pull her close. “No one disrespects you, Angel. If I ever try it, show me the fucking door.”
“Hank…”
Our eyes meet. “I’m serious, Edwina. I don’t give a damn who it is. You’re a strong woman deserving the best in life, not some asshole thinking he knows better.”
“Hank, I’m no longer a woman with a life.” She rests her head on my chest. “I get ya point, but I still have to report in.”
“Not to Lucas. Go to someone else on Council. Hell, you could go to—”
Edwina sits up and narrows her eyes. “If I didn’t know better, Hank Richards, I’d say ya jealous.”
Me? Jealous?
Ridiculous.
“No. Lucas doesn’t respect you. His arrogant ass won’t just file the report. I bet he wanted to know where you’re going, who’s going with you, and why.”
“He didn’t have to ask. Remember, Coven members can read each other’s thoughts.”
“More reason to stay away from him.” I rub her shoulder. “We have something else to deal with.”
“Like what?”
“Me ripping this garment off your fine ass,” I say, nuzzling her neck.
“I’d appreciate it if ya wouldn’t damage my clothes.” She pulls away from me and stands. “But if ya catch me, ya can do whatever ya please.”
“Vamp, I know you’re not challenging me.” Blood throbs in my veins. This female is playing a dangerous game. In one step, I could have her pinned to a wall.
Edwina steps backward, flicks her wrist, and the sound of Two Feet’s Love Is A Bitch penetrates the silence. So, we’re playing witch style? Oh, this should be fun.
I take a step forward and reach for her. Edwina’s form shimmers, and she disappears. My eyes scan the room. Edwina reappears, still wearing that tempting see-through piece of fabric, sitting on top of the kitchen island.
“Come and get me,” she teases.
“Your ass is mine,” I growl and turn toward the kitchen.
“Ya have to catch it first.” With those words, she disappears again.
I stop and listen beyond the music. Edwina’s feet collide with the floorboards upstairs. I take the steps, two at a time. She doesn’t get a chance to react when I reach the landing. My beast takes over, and I’m on the bed in one quick move.
She laughs and wraps her hands around my neck. “I guess ya caught me.”
“That I did.” Ripping fabric is the backdrop to the seductive tune playing over hidden speakers.
Edwina lies back on the bed. “Ya owe me a new nightgown.”
“Ah, Angel, what I owe you ain’t coming from nobody’s store.” I lower my head to her glorious breasts and forget my troubles for a while.
Chapter 6
Edwina
Lying together in each other’s arms, we enjoy the relative silence. The more time I spend with Hank, the more I want to know him on a deeper level. Not since Cash have I wanted to share things about myself. It’s always been my experience that humans and supernaturals alike take details and twist them for their own benefits.
But not Hank.
Of course, I remind myself to be careful. Falling for Hank would completely wreck me. The fact that he hasn’t claimed his mate yet makes whatever we’re doing foolish. What if he finds her while we’re together? I can’t… I won’t let another selfish male own my heart when he’s not offering his in return.
“Angel.” Hank kisses my temple.
Depending on when such a kiss is given, it can be an innocent gesture or the prelude to something more. I’m hoping for the first one. Nothing heavy comes with simple actions. “Huh?”
“What’s on your mind?”
Time to deflect. Sharing my thoughts might just make Hank run for the door. I’ll try an innocent question. “Why do ya call me Angel?”
Ever since our first time together, Hank has referred to me by the nickname. I’ve never asked him about it.
Hank adjusts his arm around me. “Because being inside you is like entering the gates of heaven. You cleanse me, purifying me of my sins. Afterward, I feel worthy again. It’s as close to a celestial experience as I’ll ever have.”
Damn. I asked, and the cat came deep. No one would have told me Hank could be so profound. Dragging the sheet with me, I sit up.
“Hey, what’s wrong, Edwina?” Concern oozes from his voice, and the mattress dips as he moves closer.
I swallow hard as his hand snakes around my waist. “I’m not a saint, Hank. I’ve never been anyone special.”
Nobody special…
Ancient words that have cut me to the core for three centuries. Rich men and poor ones have attempted to wrap the insult in charm and even humor. No matter how they threw at me, it always left a mark. Later, when I became undead, supernaturals hurled the same damned phrase at me—you’re no one special, Edwina. Problem is when you hear something long enough—often enough— you start to believe it. Embrace it as if it truly defines you.
Hank kisses my shoulder. “If I wanted a saint, I’d go to church. I’m here with you. You’re the one I want.”
For now.
“Why?” I say over my shoulder. “Any future with me is doomed. Council won’t approve it. Hell, I can’t even give ya children.”
Hank exhales. “Angel, kits are overrated. If I really want to be a parent, if you want to be a parent, there are little ones out there needing homes. As far as the Council goes, fuck ‘em.”
Images of myself in bed with wraiths, wolves, and some of the other shadier demons in town make me laugh. Being with Hank is odd enough for me. “I’d rather not.”
“You know what I mean.” Hank faces me. “Hey, neither of us knows where this thing between us is going. Let’s not start planning for a future together right now. We’ll take it one day at a time. Okay?”
“Okay.” Can Hank’s words keep my heart from being broken all over again? I don’t think I’ll survive another disappointment. As a human, I spent too much time being shunned because of my sex. Pushed aside because of my witchcraft. Relegated to the gutter because of my skin color. None of that changed when I became undead. In fact, it got worse. Frankly, I’m tired of all the bullshit. Maybe, just maybe, Hank might be different.
“We’re good?” he prods.
“No.” A smile curls my lips. His promise from earlier comes to mind.
“No?” Hank rubs the back of his neck. “What do I have to do—”
“Ya promised to take me out if I could still walk.” Clutching my side, I try to contain my laughter. “I assure ya I can walk just fine.”
Hank lets out a huge breath and collapses on the bed. “I swear, Angel, you’re gonna kill me one of these days.”
I lean over him. “Are ya taking me out or not?”
“Where do you wanna go?”
“Take me dancing. I haven’t gone in ages.” I drag the sheet off my bed and wrap it around me.
He pushes himself up on his
elbows. “And where shall we go to do this dancing?”
I purse my lips and narrow my eyes. “Were ya serious about giving the finger to Council?”
Hank’s head bobs. “Hell, yeah.”
“Then we go to the Red Room.”
It’s a nightspot located next to the Palladium. To be honest, we should leave town and have fun at a real nightclub. But if Hank is serious, then we make a statement. Starting tonight.
Hank’s brow wrinkles. “You sure you want to go there?”
“Yes.” I start dancing to a beat in my head. “Council members frequent the place. Humans go there, too. I’m sure. That is if ya not afraid to be seen with me.”
I’m caught off guard as Hank yanks the sheet and pulls me toward the bed. I land on top of him. “You don’t get rid of me so easily. Put your dancing shoes on, vamp, and let’s go.”
I quirk an eyebrow up. “Shouldn’t I wear more than just shoes?”
He smacks my ass, the sound resonating through the loft. “Question me again, and there’ll be more.”
I brush a hand across my stinging skin. “Don’t tempt me. Ya might find I like it rough.”
A deep rumble comes from Hank as I push off him and go to my closet.
The Red Room is Falls Creek’s poor excuse for a nightclub. Basically, it’s a bar with an area for dancing. Red booths and glass tables surround the perimeter of the reflective floor with red lights bouncing off the surface—hence the name of the club.
Eyes, from the long line snaking around the building, land on us as soon as Hank opens my car door. We walk past the crowd. Hank says something to the bouncer, and we head inside the building. I can feel the man’s eyes on my backside as we pass.
Inside, people dance to the latest Majid Jordan tune. I can’t help wiggling my hips to the beat. Hank rests his hand on my lower back, and we walk toward an empty table. He flags one of the scantily-clad waitresses as we sit down.
The loud music and people talking jar my senses. Hank speaks, but I don’t understand a word he says. Closing my eyes helps me focus. Now I can hear him clearly.
“You okay, Angel?” His breath fans across my cheek.