Mating Fever

by Celeste Anwar

  He looked as delicious and sinful as chocolate ... but with bite to it.

  He was definitely a heart breaker. Women probably fell all over themselves for one peep at him ... just like her. She tried to be annoyed, but irritation was the furthest thing from her mind.

  He held her gaze, watching her intently beneath heavy, straight brows, eyes reflecting the tension in his body.

  Jessica blushed so brightly under his intense, knowing stare, she was sure she glowed in the dark. She tore her eyes away from his and focused on his lips, blushed again at her errant thoughts, and dropped her gaze yet again to his chin. Her eyes kept straying down that belly to his unbuttoned fly. His fly bulged impressively, and she wondered absently if anything was going to jump out and bite her. And if she’d really fight it off if it attacked.

  “Like what you see, chere?” he finally asked in a velvet drawl, breaking her out of her stupor.

  If she’d had fur, she was sure it would ruffle and prickle under that stroking, baritone voice. With an effort, Jessica dragged her gaze back to his, hating that her interest was so damned obvious. Hating more that she continued to blush. She was so hot, she felt like she’d break out in a sweat at any moment. What did she expect? She’d probably been drooling at him like he was a juicy steak for at least five minutes.

  Something changed in him, and his look turned to one of amusement at her perusal. His gaze dropped to her feet, and he roamed his way up her body, leaving her strangely flushed and aroused. She hadn’t thought it was possible to become aroused just looking at someone, let alone a stranger, and she didn’t like the feeling one bit.

  Get a grip, she told herself, and fixed him with a stern stare. “Did you see someone run by here?” she asked, then immediately thought about how stupid that probably sounded. She didn’t know how long she’d gaped at him, because her brain was strangely foggy, but he was holding her necklace and she’d heard the brief fight.

  Dammit. She normally curbed her impulse to ask dumb questions. It was hell being a blonde. Society just had no idea the burden they placed on already burdened minds.

  He didn’t seem to notice her dumb blonde moment.

  He leaned back on his heels. “I did. I found sometin’ you lost, cherie,” he murmured, cocking that smile again. He held up his hand, dangling her necklace before her eyes. The medallion glinted and twirled on its chain.

  His husky, drawling accent caressed her ears like a melody, sending shivers up and down her spine like smooth silk. Jessica shook herself with an effort. It was time to stiffen her spine and stop thinking between her legs. She was as bad as a man.

  “Thank you.” She reached up to take it, but he snatched his hand back.

  “No’ so fast, cherie. Don’ your champion deserve sometin’ in return?”

  Maybe she did owe him something for the trouble ... but she wasn’t so sure about just giving in to his demands though. “What kind of rescuer would demand payment?” she asked, propping her hands on her hips and mustering up a glare at him.

  His teeth flashed in a wide grin. “One who’s smitten with your beauty, chere.”

  Jessica rolled her eyes, trying not to laugh. Why did all Southern men lay the charm on so thickly? “Oh puhlease.”

  He looked hurt that she doubted him. “You wound me, chere. Have you no heart? I have risked my life only t’please, and you begrudge me so small a token as a kiss?”

  “A kiss?” she exclaimed. Her heart tripped in her chest, staggered up, and started to run.

  He rubbed a thumb against his jaw, measuring her. “Your name and ... a kiss.”

  Jessica released an exasperated breath, trying to block out the breathless feeling in her chest at the idea of letting those sultry, pouty lips touch hers. She wasn’t going to play these games. She’d give him what he wanted all right. “It’s Jessica Talvert, and here’s your reward.” She stood on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. She dropped down and gave him a syrupy smile of satisfaction at outwitting him.

  Who said she was a dumb blonde?

  “Sweet, but I’m no’ your brodder, chere,” he said in a voice brimming with enough sensual menace a delicious primal shiver skated through her body. He caught her arms about the same time she realized his intent, blocking her defensive ball busting move with one knee and her titty twister with an unbreakable hold. Before she knew what was happening, she found herself whirled around and thrust against one wall, hauled tightly against his body.

  Shadows cloaked them, spilling across his face. He seemed a lot bigger and more dangerous so tightly against her. She should’ve abandoned her necklace to him.

  “Some hero,” she gritted out, squirming in his hold, trying to free a hand. Despite her struggles, she insanely anticipated him stealing a kiss from her. Didn’t it make it all right to enjoy herself if she didn’t really give in? That was a rule somewhere, she was sure.

  Something dark and predatory flashed in his eyes, like a slumbering wolf had been awakened. Her breath caught. All the silly little, nervous thoughts washing through her brain froze. He smiled ferally, then bent his head to claim her lips.

  Jessica gasped, partly in outrage, but mostly from a surge of heat so sharp and drastic, her heart stopped for a breathless moment.

  He seized the break in her defenses and plunged his tongue into her mouth, filling her with hot persuasion and the stroking glide of his tongue. He tasted spicy, like cinnamon and rum and something infinitely wilder and more dangerous.

  Jessica wanted to bite him for his audacity, to fight him off, but he rubbed sensuously against her own tongue, silky, slick and rough. It took only moments for vengeful thoughts to disappear entirely and be replaced by the seductive call of desire. Jessica gave a shocked whimper when he retreated and sucked her tongue into his mouth.

  She tried to pull back, but he captured the back of her head with an easy, merciless grip, holding her to the thrall of his mouth and his hungry, sucking kiss.

  Slowly, she began to realize a pressure that had never been there before built low in her belly. Arousal cramped her pussy with a jerking spasm of pleasure. She gasped into his mouth at the piercing, sweet agony, the awakening of some long slumbering beast inside her. His mouth drove her wild, made her respond in a way she’d never dreamed possible. Heat rippled through her like liquid fire.

  He cradled his body into hers, stroking those rough jeans against her trapped slit, melting her core until she felt her wet arousal trickle between her thighs. His groin nestled in the juncture of her thighs, so incredibly close to where she needed it, unbearably hard and erotic, wrecking what little resolve she still possessed.

  At some point, he’d freed her hands to draw his around her waist and bring her tighter against him, slipping them down to clutch her buttocks and mold her to the hot tightness of his cock.

  Jessica clung to him, her fingers stroking his satiny skin and muscled back. She squirmed in pleasurable agony as he thrust against her, fighting the thrill that surged in her blood at his possessive hold and the knowledge that she’d conjured his lust.

  She couldn’t seem to get enough air. She felt dizzy with it and the tingling pleasure between her thighs. Her lips and tongue felt gloriously bruised from his kiss, so sensitive she could orgasm if only he’d continue devouring her.

  He broke away from her mouth suddenly, leaving her gasping for breath and her knees weak.

  “You’re so sweet, cherie,” he said with a drowsy, heated look, rubbing his thumb across his lips and licking the moisture lingering from her mouth off the pad.

  Jessica swallowed. Hard. She felt dazed and not herself, and her pulse still raced with something akin to heat. The loss of control unnerved her. “My necklace?” she managed to say past her throbbing lips. She held out her hand, palm up, encouraged by her ability not to melt in a puddle on the ground at his feet.

  He gave her an unreadable look and dropped the necklace into her hand, closing her fingers over it. “It’s broken. You’ll need t’fix it,” he s
aid, releasing her hand.

  She resisted the urge to rub where he’d touched her. She felt positively branded all over. By the way he was acting, it seemed to be just her reacting so heatedly to the kiss--which was infinitely embarrassing to say the least. Jessica looked down at the broken chain. “Yes, it is.” But she’d already known that. The thief had ripped it from her neck.

  “It’s not somtin’ you wanna wait on, chere.”

  Jessica looked up, distracted from her unwanted physical response by the intriguing tone of his voice. There was warning there. And something else she couldn’t quite identify. “What do you mean?”

  “Jus’ what I said. There’s a shop jus’ a ways from the corner of Bourbon and Canal--Mikel’s. They can fix it for you there. You wan’ me t’show you?” He grinned in the half light, his teeth flashing white and sharp against his bronzed skin.

  “Thanks. I can find it on my own.” She hadn’t noticed any shops on her way down here--mostly just hotels and the like. A few bars. Her own hotel was on Canal Street.

  He frowned, eyeing her thoughtfully. “You’re not gonna go, are you, chere?”

  Whether she did or not wasn’t any of his business. She shrugged noncommittally.

  “Jus’ remember what I tol’ you.”

  His advice brought the warning her adoptive parents had given her fresh into her mind. Never take this off. Never. She knew her neck was ringed with paler skin, the chain having long rested around it ... for as long as she could remember. She half wondered if he knew something she didn’t, but she shrugged the silly thought off. He didn’t know her or anything about her. She’d gotten paranoid since coming to New Orleans.

  Jessica turned to go, then stopped. “What’s your name?” she asked, glancing back at him over her shoulder.

  He smiled lazily, propping one shoulder against the building in confident male fashion. “Gabriel Benoit, petite. At your service.”

  “Nice to ... uh ... meet you,” she murmured and turned away before he could see her blush again ... or draw her into further conversation. She put his disturbing presence and even more disturbing kiss out of her mind.

  She wasn’t here to get involved with any man, especially not one like him. She knew the type--players. Always charming, good looking, and absolutely horrible on a woman’s self-esteem when they left and chased after the next piece of ass. She wasn’t going to be any man’s conquest. Not that Jessica had ever fallen for a player, but she damned well knew now why women did.

  She still felt hot and bothered as she set off for her hotel. She glanced back to see if he followed--not because she wanted one last look at temptation incarnate--but he wasn’t to be seen. She quickly lost sight of the small alley as she made her way toward Canal Street and left the revelers behind.

  She’d thought it strange how the further she walked, the deader the area became. Soon the only sounds on the street were the hum of car engines, the wind, and her own footsteps. It was a long walk back to her hotel, and she was contemplating finding and catching a cab when she noticed the obscure shop Gabriel had spoken of.

  It was practically invisible, overshadowed by the giants around it, but the shuttered, double doors were thrown open to let a cool breeze inside. Obviously, they were open, even at this late hour. Jessica approached it, and the jangling music of wind chimes grew louder as she neared. A man was inside, sweeping the rugs covering the tiled floor. He looked up as she passed through the door.

  “Are you closing up?” she asked, stopping inside the threshold.

  “Not just yet,” he said, setting his broom aside. “What can I do for you?”

  Jessica held up her necklace, looking around and feeling like she’d been duped. The shop didn’t look like a jewelry repair place. “Someone mentioned I could get this fixed here,” she said with a doubtful tone to her voice.

  He took it from her and gave her a startled look, quickly shuttered. “Yep. I’ll get this fixed for you in a jiffy. Have a look around. I’ll be right back.”

  Jessica nodded and watched him go through a door into the back, then wandered around the cluttered shop. There were racks of charms and potions on one side, including a row dedicated to nothing but essence of garlic of varying sizes and potencies. Weapons lined the walls out of reach near the ceiling: crossbows, long bows, swords, and arrows with silver and wooden heads. There were others she couldn’t identify, but that looked almost like medieval maces.

  Jessica continued looking and found an umbrella holder filled with short wooden stakes and another with mallets. It looked for all the world like some bizarre, witch hunting shop ... or rather, one dedicated to vampire hunting. The movie Blade popped in her head. Really, being Louisiana, she would’ve thought they’d have more voodoo paraphernalia for the tourists to buy.

  The man came out again, moving behind the front counter. He laid her necklace on the clean surface. “That’s a fine warding medallion you have. Been a while since I’ve seen one so old.”

  “Warding medallion?” she asked, walking up to the counter to check the work. She couldn’t even tell it had ever been broken.

  “Yes. Well, it’s an old, cryptic language. Most people wouldn’t recognize it. See these markings here?” He flipped it over and showed her a scrawling script. She’d always thought it was some kind of ornate design--not words. “It’s protection against the wolf.”

  Jessica was intrigued. She leaned on the counter, looking between him and her medallion. “What kind of protection?”

  “It depends on the wearer really. Now, if you were a vampire, it would ward werewolves away ... supposedly.”

  Jessica laughed. He wasn’t serious. “Okay, you got me. There’s no such thing as vampires and werewolves.”

  He chuckled, watching as she put the necklace on. “I’m not joking around. I would’ve thought you’d heard of the war by now.”

  “What war? Does it have something to do with all this stuff in here?” she asked, waving an expansive arm, playing along.

  He propped an elbow on the register. “Of course. I’m just a supplier, mind you. I don’t take part, but I’m partial to the Lycan side of things.”

  “Why’s that? I mean, I don’t see why vampires and Lycans would fight. Lycans are werewolves, right?”

  “That’s right. Lycanthropes.” He rubbed his jaw, considering it. “It must’ve been in the early part of this past century. The Lycans rebelled against the vamps using them as food and slaves ... but they mostly objected to being eaten, and still do. Must’ve been a sight to see them tearing into the vamps--if you were on the inside, that is. I’ve always been partial to the underdog, so I supply them when they come in.”

  Jessica was completely unnerved and fascinated by his story. She didn’t doubt but what there were plenty of nuts running around claiming to be a werewolf or a vampire. Given the turn of movies and television, she’d known of plenty of people who were fascinated by the subject matter.

  She guessed anyone had a right to make a living selling to them. “So is this war still going on?” she asked, amused by the old man but trying not to show it.

  “It flares up every now and again, but they usually stick to their territory. Just stay clear of anything Southwest of the Ponchartrain Expressway. Oh. And especially the warehouse and Garden district.”

  Jessica nodded, humoring him. She was going somewhere around there to check out the cemetery where her birth parents had been buried--at least that’s what she’d managed to dig up about them.

  “Mmmhmmm. How much do I owe you for the repair?”

  “Ten dollars,” he said.