Corwin crossed his big arms over his chest and looked at Laurel again. Her words made perfect sense, but he wasn't sure he liked the change. It had always been just him and her and that was the way he loved it. He had no trouble charming the clients, to make them feel welcome, to seduce them. When they closed the bookstore for the day, he wanted no one else around but her.
It was ridiculous. How would that fierce, protective part of him handle any outsiders?
Laurel raised her head and gave him one of her sweet smiles. "Sometimes I waste so much time in administration and paperwork. It'd be better to let someone else handle it so I can work on more creative things... new recipes, finding new herbs..."
She leaned in to whisper against his lips. "More time for my pet."
Corwin hissed under his breath when her mouth moved closer to his. Some days it was getting so difficult to restrain himself around her. Something as innocent as a touch and a smile made him hard.
It's so close to the full moon.
"I hope you know what you're doing, Laurel. We're happy here, why should we risk ruining it?" He ran fingers through his dark hair and let out a sharp breath. "Sorry... I... I've been nervous."
She took Corwin's big palms in hers. His fingers were a little cold to touch and little tremors pierced his rough skin.
"Relax, my little wolf." Laurel whispered those words as if they were a lullaby and her disarming gentle touch broke through the wall of tension. Corwin swallowed and smiled at her. The ferocious hotness was letting go of his mind. "It's okay, you always get like that at the full moon... I always take care of you."
"Yes, Mi... I mean, Laurel." He pulled away from her. If they continued touching, it'd be difficult to last too long before the wolf resurfaced in his mind. Right then Laurel looked delicious enough to eat and her white neck drew his attention. Such a tiny strip of skin over her red poncho and yet so seductive.
It brought memories of how sweet her blood was. He closed his eyes and imagined her taste on his tongue, swirling like an exquisite wine.
"Anyway..." She interrupted his thoughts and picked up one of her chocolates from the pumpkin. "Are you ready for tonight?"
Corwin nodded and rubbed his temples to ease the headache rushing in. It's been worse lately, and he was getting more sensitive to sounds. He sank his teeth in his tongue and waited for a few minutes for the sharp, pounding pain to pass. Laurel narrowed her eyes, put the chocolate away and reached out to rub the base of his wrist.
"Why don't you take your break?" She whispered and ran her nails along his skin. "It's quiet right now, so I won't need you as much at the front store. Go to your room, I'll make you some tea."
He laughed and kept rubbing his temples with faster movements. The nasty, gnawing sensation deep in his stomach seemed to feed his headache. There was something strange in the air but Corwin found it hard to put his finger on it. It was a whisper in the wind. A threatening voice. The sound was too low and he didn't get the message.
His Mistress ran tender fingers along his stubble and repeated her order in a firmer tone. Corwin's heart beat faster when Laurel narrowed her eyes at him and let the steel creep back in her voice.
"Now, little wolf. Go to your room, pull the curtains and lay down with your eyes closed. I'll be with you in about ten minutes. Do you understand?"
Whenever she spoke in that voice it demolished his walls and Corwin had no choice but to surrender. It's been like that since the day they met. Laurel was kneeling at his feet when he laid his eyes on her for the first time.
Thousands of stinging welts were decorating his back on that day. The ringmasters put him in the heaviest chains and the iron was digging in his wrists and ankles. Corwin stood there in the stables, unable to fold his knees, with head cast down in despair. The unexpected gentle touch of someone's fingers on his roughened skin made him snap and raise his head with alarm. It was a light touch, soft like a dove feather and yet it filled him with more anxiety than the most vicious of whip lashes.
They punished him for trying to escape... for who knows what time.
When he opened his eyes, he stared back in the green gaze of the tiny brunette at his feet. Corwin had noticed her a few times before, she was one of the fortune tellers who worked at the circus. That cold morning was the first time he saw her... and his throat tightened when the woman caressed him again.
"It will be okay." She laid her lips on his wound. "We're escaping tonight, you and me. Let me take care of you."
Corwin would have laughed if he had the strength. That little stranger still believed escape was an option. The despair had already left its rusty stain on his optimism and he saw no light in the dungeon his life had become.
He was thankful for her gentle touch but never expected her to keep her promise. Later that same evening she was clutching the reins of the circus' finest mare, rushing it to ride faster. Corwin sat behind her, leaning on her, still too weak from the brutal beating. That was when he whispered his oath of loyalty in her ear.
"I'm yours, as long as you want me."
Laurel promised to take care of him and she did, every single day. In exchange, he protected her with all the ferociousness his beastly nature had given him.
Corwin snapped out of that distant memory, nodded at her and walked away from the cash register counter. The darkness of his room and her herbs had to soothe him.
They were happy, happier than ever... and every little change made him freeze in fear. What would go wrong?
His intuition never lied to him and now it was beaming in bright red, warning him of danger.
Laurel, be careful.
III
Laurel was climbing up the ladder to the top shelf when she heard the silver bell ringing. The mysterious sensation pierced her defenses at least a few minutes before the bookshop's door opened. Her pale fingers clutched harder at the wood and she nearly lost her balance once the soft steps echoed through the room. That rich scent of old wine filled her nostrils and took over her anxious mind.
Corwin hadn't been the only one to feel strange over the last few days. His Mistress had sensed hints of that powerful, seductive presence. She'd go about her day, sort out the herbs, go through the book catalog or the website's orders and the fragrance would come over her, out of nowhere. Faint, coming from afar... but it was coming her way.
It wasn't a hostile takeover, more like a deliberate penetration of her mind, a breath on her neck, a sensual melody that became faster. That ghost lingered in her bedroom while Corwin slept next to her, with his head on her lap. She hadn't alarmed him yet as he had not been feeling well over the past month.
That wine fragrance had been maturing for years and it made her dizzy, overwhelming her and crushing her defenses. Laurel hadn't even turned around but her skin burnt and tingled and her body felt heavy. A wave of terror washed over her once she made sense of her state.
Lust. Potent, red hot carnal desire that blossomed between her thighs and made its way up to her mind. It swelled in her nipples and they poked through the soft fabric of her dress. The stranger hadn't even revealed his face and yet he had a strange effect on her body.
Laurel wasn't a virgin, and she was familiar with the intense world of passion. Nobody knew better than Corwin what a generous lover she was... if her pet earned his pleasure. He had spent hours on her bed, in tight bondage, begging and moaning while Laurel kindled his passion until his cock throbbed in her hand. She drove him insane with a soft teasing and often made him scream in frustration and beg for her mercy. The sight of his athletic body caught in a trap, so strong and yet so helpless, opened the rivers of lust inside her.
She often wondered who suffered more during those games of power.
Once Corwin earned himself the right to bury himself inside his goddess, Laurel impaled herself on him and cried out with ecstasy and relief. Their lips tangled and when she sank teeth in his tongue, a rush of cinnamon filled her mouth. Did Corwin taste like spice once she licked his blood or wa
s it all part of the magic? Sometimes when Laurel was so close to orgasm, the magic slipped out of her control and she experienced her own spell.
The bliss of riding her gorgeous wolf was almost unbearable. Their bodies picked up the rhythm and his cock grew so hard inside her, he ended up bruising her womb. Laurel craved the pain, pleasure, cinnamon and blood. She was in a different head space when she had Corwin inside her. He looked so beautiful in those moments, with his messy sex hair, glowing green eyes and flexing body, with his massive erection stretching her in the most delicious way. His growling voice and fierce loyalty, the way he said Mistress, often pushed her past the borders of reason and logic, until lust enslaved her. Taming that magnificent beast, tasting him and taking the best of him took her mind to places she didn't know existed.
When they finished making love, he curled next to her and Laurel held him close and whispered what a good boy he had been, how proud he had made her. Their relationship made little sense to the world around them, even to their secret world and its unwritten laws. Wolves were never born to crave ownership. The Little Red Riding Hood's role wasn't that of an enchantress who could tame them. The law of nature stated she had to submit and accept his raw possession.
It made sense to them and that's all that mattered... and if anyone threatened it, Laurel Stone had no qualms about fighting dirty.
That lust, brought by the fog of seductive red wine, didn't resemble the sensual power she held over Corwin. It was violent and yet alluring. She longed for someone to take her, to own her and let her feel the other side of the power, the discipline and the pain. Sometimes she had such needs and Corwin played her Master but he always held back on her. They never exchanged their roles for longer than one night every few decades.
Right then, she clenched her thighs and her clit throbbed with that sudden, unnatural desire. She feared stepping down as her legs refused to obey her.
"Is it a bad time?" If the invisible scent was enough to bring her inner submissive to the surface, that deep silky voice nearly killed her. Polite and cultured, with an accent she couldn't define at first. These simple words had a vague mockery about them, which only teased the fire and anger inside her.
Laurel turned around sharply and her foot slipped on the wooden step of the ladder. She had no time to react or scream when she fell, flailing her arms in the air. Horror had gripped her by the throat and all she could do was gasp out loud.
"I'm sorry." The stranger spoke again and this time his seductive voice was so close to her ear. Laurel still had her back towards him but he had grabbed her mid fall in a pair of strong arms. He pressed her against his chest and helped her regain her balance. That time his scent was so close, so haunting. It took all her self-control not to melt right on the spot. His arms slid around her waist, under the pretext that he helped her to get back on her feet... and Laurel didn't mind it as much as she should have. "I didn't mean to scare you, ma'am. Are you all right?"
Would she protest if he leaned her against the ladder, made her grasp the wooden steps and fucked her from behind before leaving? Right in that moment her body had taken control over her mind and she'd even demand it.
That's insane.
Laurel felt his breath in her hair and caught another sensation in the swirl of red wine. Winter. Ice.
The moment their eyes met the stranger took a step back and bowed to her. A wicked little grin went over his lips but didn't reach his eyes, pale blue and cold as the heart of the winter. Long, pale blond hair fell down his shoulders, in a stark contrast to his black coat. He was as tall as Corwin, though less muscular and on the lean side, with long, elegant fingers that had been brushing past her waist just a minute ago.
She had never met a creature with such an austere beauty and seductive aura.
He was wearing a long black coat that made his pale skin stand out even more. Laurel looked down at his hands in matching leather gloves. How could those slender fingers have such a strong grasp? At first sight he appeared somehow fragile to her. That delicacy melted when the stranger looked deep into her.
Did he read her thoughts?
Laurel snapped out of her trance. It dawned on her that the stranger waited for her to respond, with one pale blond eyebrow arched and that same half-mocking grin. She cleared her throat, gathered all her powers of enchantment and flashed him her best smile. She reserved that smile only for customers and potential lovers. It tickled her pride when surprise went through his gaze.
"This is so embarrassing." Laurel cooed and leaned against the ladder with a mysterious expression that rivaled his. Desire was still ravaging her body, but she had gotten her act together. "Thank you, sir, I'd have broken my neck if you hadn't helped me."
He chuckled and tilted his head to the side. His eyes studied her with a strange mixture of curiosity and arrogant possession.
"That's so kind of you to say, ma'am, but you wouldn't be in any danger of snapping your lovely neck if I hadn't startled you." The stranger responded and curled his long fingers in a come hither gesture. His scent was red wine and his voice was as deep as dark chocolate.
Beautiful... and dangerous. His polite voice had a subtle menace about it. A smile that never reached his eyes, a calculating look on his face... and that aura of a predator masked beneath a delicious fragrance.
He couldn't be an ordinary man.
A sense of unease lurked inside her chest, a weak, little flame compared to the forest fire of physical desire.
The desire for submission.
Laurel had always been faithful to her wolf during all those years Corwin had been by her side. Nobody else provoked her interest or tempted her, not in such an intense way. Seduction served her as a weapon but she didn't let the flame touch her... unless her lover and her reached the peak of pleasure together.
That man woke up other cravings inside her, desire she thought she had buried. Laurel wanted him to push her down on her knees, raise her skirt and run a smooth palm down her exposed ass. The leather of his gloves would slide down her buttocks, warming them up, running along the strip of wetness at the front part of her panties.
The first stinging slap of his leather clad palm would sting and bring tears to her eyes... and she'd beg for more. Here she was now, melting under the cold gaze of a stranger and had a hard time restraining herself from dropping on her knees.
Would he be rough or seductive in his domination? She imagined his full lips and that he'd sink his teeth in her neck until he drank the first drops of scarlet blood. Laurel squeezed her thighs as she pictured him licking the blood. He'd be right behind her, pressing his body against her spanked ass and would reach out to rip her dress.
"Perhaps you'd like to sit down?" His mocking voice once again snapped her out of her shameful fantasies. "You are red in the face. Not that I complain. A lady could always use natural blush on her cheeks."
Oh, someone was full of himself. She wouldn't give him the pleasure of seeing her flustered or angry. Protesting and acting like an offended maiden would just make his smugness grow. Instead, Laurel smirked at him, turned around with a sensual lilt of her hips and strolled to the cash register. The lust weakened its grasp around her throat now that she had no direct contact with him.
Was it her imagination or did his eyes follow her every move?
"You might be right, sir. About blushing." When she got behind her desk, at a safe distance, Laurel turned to him with a flip of her long, wavy hair. He still stood at the same place, amused and waiting for her to make the next move. "Few things impress me enough to tint my cheeks in red."
His laughter surprised her, its silver, cheerful sound that echoed through Cinnamon's wooden walls. Listening to him laugh made her think of sparkles and bubbling joy. He was such a contradiction.
"I'm sure I can surprise you, Miss." The man moved with a casual grace and walked to her as quiet as if he was a tomcat. Laurel looked down at his leather boots, black like the rest of his clothes. "The world is full of unexpected experi
ences, don't you think? You might just need to expand your comfort zone."
Laurel rested her hands on the counter and shot him a questioning look. The strange man was in no hurry to explain what he wanted and enjoyed taking his time. He was looking around with that same mildly intrigued expression but then he fixed his eyes on hers.
"My comfort zone is a sweet place, sir." Laurel chirped, as if she didn't understand what he was implying. Everything inside her clenched in anticipation. "Staying inside it has more appeal than venturing out. You might try it someday."
For the first time since he entered the shop, the stranger looked a little shocked. Insecurity crossed his beautiful features, but that lasted shorter than the blink of an eye. The stranger leaned in and nearly touched her hand. Laurel trembled at his proximity but didn't move away. The thin hairs on her wrist raised in anticipation, she held her breath and...
...his leather clad fingers only lingered next to her skin before the stranger took a step back.
"Comfort and I bid farewell a long time ago... though I wish I had the time to get to know the zone you're so fond of." He moved his eyes from hers and kept gazing at the bookshop's shelves and decorations with a vague smile. Laurel heard a touch of melancholy in his voice. Once again, it was such a subtle emotion that someone who didn't have her experienced ear would have missed it. A sigh fell off his sultry lips, even quieter than the drop of the pin.
When he turned his eyes back to hers, he had the same detached look of calculated seduction.
"You have built a lovely bookshop for yourself, Miss. Many people told me that your shop was a local treasure... just like you. I see they weren't exaggerating." A hint of warmth crept in his mysterious smile.
He'd be dangerous for her sanity if he stayed close to her for five more minutes. She had to keep her professional mask and go on with the usual sweetness.
"That's nice of you to say, sir..."
"Severin." The stranger chuckled and extended his hand for a shake. "Trust me, I'm anything but nice. So if I pay you a compliment, I speak what I think."
Blood and Spice Page 2