Scarlet Heat

by Evangeline Anderson

  If I could have given in to my body’s needs and the heat urging me on, it wouldn’t have been a problem. But under the waves of desire, I still felt those awful memories surging. Fear and my past still held me back by the finest thread. I couldn’t help feeling like I was close to breaking that thread, though. If I could only—

  “Well, well, what the fuck do we have here?” A deep voice snarled in my ear. A putrid smell like wet dog assaulted my nose and a heavy hand suddenly landed on my shoulder.

  “LeeAnn said he was fucking a vamp,” said a second voice, sounding disgusted. “Looks like he’s letting her feed on him too—fucking degenerate.”

  In a flash, the heat I was feeling turned to cold fear. My fangs retracted and I stiffened against Victor, my heart going triple time.

  Before I had time to react more than that, Victor was in action. He sprang off the bar stool, knocked the hand off my shoulder and pushed me behind him, all in what seemed like one smooth motion.

  From behind his broad shoulder, I could see three large, angry men surrounding us. The smell of wet dog was coming from all of them. I wrinkled my nose—was this what other werewolves smelled like? Ugh, no wonder my kind didn’t like them.

  “The fuck do you want?” Victor growled. “How dare you bother me when I’m out with my wife?”

  “His wife? You hear that?” The lead guy—the one I assumed had grabbed my shoulder, made a disgusted face. He was wearing a t-shirt with three wolves howling at the moon on it. “He bonded himself to a fanger.”

  “That’s forbidden—not to mention fucking sick,” the second one, who had a black tribal tattoo inked on one side of his face, said.

  The third one simply growled and popped his knuckles, which seemed to gleam strangely in the dim light. Was he wearing something on them? A weapon? I narrowed my eyes—yes, he was wearing brass knuckles except they appeared to be made of silver, not brass. Great.

  “I got no quarrel with you,” Victor said to them. “I’m not in your pack and I’m not planning to join.”

  “Pack law still applies,” Tribal Tattoo said.

  “No, it doesn’t—not off pack land.” Victor took a step forward and rubbed his lower back as though he had a pain there. “Just leave us alone and we’ll go our separate ways. Trust me, boys, you do not want to fuck with me tonight.”

  “Oh yes, we fucking do,” Three Wolf Moon Shirt growled. “You’re fucking around with the natural order of things—we can’t let that stand. It’s an offense.”

  “To who—LeeAnn?” Victor demanded. “I don’t want anything to do with her.”

  “Then you can deal with us instead.” Brass Knuckles stepped forward and took a swing.

  He must have caught Victor by surprise because his fist connected with Victor’s cheek, whipping his head back and to the side. For a split second, I saw his face—the eyes glowing gold in the dim club, his lips curled back in a snarl that showed he had fangs of his own—short but very sharp. And then he turned to face the men again, a low growl emanating from his big body.

  “You fuckers,” he snarled and sprang into action.

  It was three against one but none of the other men stood a chance once Victor took after them. The Latin beat still pumped in the background, the lights strobing on the dance floor as they fought. We were in a dark corner but I couldn’t help wondering how long it would be before someone saw us and called the cops.

  The other weres didn’t even try to fight fair—they all came at Victor at once but it didn’t seem to matter—he was like a machine. The back of his jacket split with a low purring sound as he punched one man and elbowed another in the face. Then the third, Brass Knuckles, came at him from behind and punched him in the kidneys. Victor groaned and put a hand to his lower back, his eyes glowing even brighter.

  I had been frozen before, standing just outside the sphere of the action. But seeing the way they were ganging up on the man I cared about turned the ice that surrounded me into pure, hot hate.

  “You bastard!” I yelled. I’ve never been much of a fighter before—okay, I’ve always been a big wimp, I admit it—but I jumped on the guy’s back and sank my fangs into his neck from behind.

  He let loose with a high-pitched wail and forgot all about Victor as he tried to dislodge me.

  “It bit me! It bit me!” he screamed, sounding more like a little girl than a big tough werewolf. He spun in circles until I was dizzy, trying to get me off him.

  I bit him again even though his blood tasted oily and disgusting on my tongue. I sank my fangs in deep and snarled in his ear. Honestly, I hardly knew myself. Where was Taylor, the shy little girl who never stood up to bullies? Where was the doormat Celeste had stepped on for so many years?

  She was gone. In her place was a wild woman—a woman who cared enough to fight for her man. I’m a vampire, I reminded myself as I clawed Brass Knuckles in the face, taking grim satisfaction at the feeling of my nails sinking into his flesh. I can take these bastards!

  “Hey! Hey, break it up!” The voice seemed to be coming from far away. I was so into my attack I could barely hear. From somewhere near the front of the club, voices were shouting and someone was yelling, “It’s a fight—they’re fighting!”

  Then someone was prying me off the screaming were and pulling me toward the dusty exit door. I tried to go back—I wasn’t through with him yet. Wasn’t done taking revenge for his attack on my man.

  “Come on,” Victor said in my ear, pulling harder on my arm. “We have to go—they’re sending the police!”

  That finally got through to me. I didn’t want to spend the rest of the night in a holding cell and be stuck in the police station during the day when the sun was up. I went with Victor, my heels clattering on the floor as he hit the push bar of the exit door.

  The door slapped open, revealing a dark alley lit only by a single anemic streetlight. It shed a sickly yellow glow over the stained pavement and crumbling brick walls. Behind us, I could hear shouting and angry voices but Victor didn’t slow down.

  I risked a quick glance over my shoulder as we raced through the door and saw some men in uniforms converging on the spot we had been fighting. The three weres were lying on the floor, all obviously injured. Three Wolf Moon’s leg was bent at a wrong angle and Tribal Tattoos was holding his arm and howling. Brass Knuckles was still scrabbling at his bleeding neck, sobbing like a little girl that he had been bitten.

  Then the door slammed shut and Victor and I were running blindly down the alley, just trying to get away.

  Chapter Sixteen—Victor

  After about three blocks, we stopped, panting, and I was able to take stock of the situation. The burning of the brand at my lower back had subsided somewhat and I was feeling more in control, which was good.

  I looked at Taylor, wanting to make sure she was all right. Her hair was wild and there was blood smeared like lipstick in the corners of her mouth. Her eyes were shining in the dim light.

  “You okay?” I asked her warily. I was still a little in awe of her performance back at the club. I hadn’t thought she had it in her to get so wild but I’d had to literally peel her off the were with the silver knuckles and she’d made fucking hamburger out of his neck.

  “I think so.” She spat on the ground and then looked at me. “Oh, sorry—I guess that wasn’t very ladylike. I just, uh…that guy’s blood tastes awful.”

  “Baby, nothing you just did was ladylike. It was still fucking amazing, though.” I grinned at her. “Didn’t know you could get so crazy—you messed that guy up bad.”

  “He was hurting you. I saw him punch you here.” Her hand went to the small of my back where the brand was still throbbing.

  I jumped away from her touch reflexively. I couldn’t have her hands on me there—not when the curse was weighing so heavily on me. Strong emotions—excitement, anger, lust, fear—always brought the monster inside me closer to the surface. I’d had enough of all those feelings to take me right to the edge tonight—it wouldn’t
take much to push me over.

  “Sorry,” Taylor exclaimed. “I didn’t mean to make it worse—are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine,” I assured her, taking her hand, mostly to keep it from wandering to my back again. “Still just a little jumpy, I guess.”

  She frowned. “I don’t believe you. Let’s go home so I can get a good look at you and heal you.”

  The thought of her small, pink tongue caressing my skin to heal me as she did when she healed her bite marks on my neck made me instantly hard. Inside me, the beast roared and far above my head I could hear the call of the moon. She was still three days from being full but her call was strong all the same.

  “Uh…” I cleared my throat. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, baby.”

  “Of course, it’s a good idea.” Taylor started walking, pulling me along as we made our way through the streets of Ybor to the parking garage. “But I want to take a shower first. I have to get this stink off me.”

  “What stink?” I raised an eyebrow at her.

  “Couldn’t you smell it? Those other guys—they smelled like wet dog. Gross.” Her nose wrinkled and she looked at me. “Is that what other weres smell like to vampires?”

  I frowned. “I guess. They smelled like normal weres to me.”

  “But not like you,” Taylor said. “Your smell…you smell so good.”

  “You smell good to me too, baby,” I murmured, squeezing her hand lightly. I wanted to add that she smelled hot—like she was in need. All evening her scent had been driving me crazy—that warm feminine spice that let me know her pussy was wet and ready to be fucked—to be bred. But I held back—I wanted her to come to me, not the other way around.

  She blushed, her pale cheeks going pink.

  “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that. I just…I wonder why you smell and taste so different from other weres.”

  I shrugged. “Who knows? So you didn’t like that guy’s blood?”

  She made a face. “It was awful. Like tasting dirty motor oil and sweat mixed together.”

  “What’s mine like?” I asked curiously. She’d been drinking from me for almost a month but this was the first time we’d really had this conversation.

  Her face lit up. “It’s amazing. Like some kind of really rare, delicious liquor—it warms me up from the inside out. It’s kind of like drinking liquid sunshine.”

  I barked a laugh. “You’re making me think I should sell the stuff. If everybody liked it as much as you I’d be a millionaire inside a month.”

  “Don’t you dare,” she said with mock severity. “You’re mine—I don’t want anyone else drinking from you. Ever.”

  The possessiveness in her voice sent a thrill through me and made my cock even harder. God, I loved to hear her talk like that—like we belonged to each other. Like we would be together forever.

  “I’m all yours,” I promised her, squeezing her hand again. “As long as you remember you’re mine too.”

  She murmured something too soft to hear.

  “What?” I asked, glancing at her.

  “The Laws of Ownership,” she said and this time her face went positively red. “I never understood before but maybe…maybe that’s what this…this feeling is all about.”

  I nodded slowly. “Corbin said you would belong to me and I would belong to you. I guess I never really got it, either.” I got it now, though. Got the fact that I wanted her with me always.

  I wondered if she felt the same way. Or if she ever would.

  We walked in thoughtful silence back to my truck.

  * * * * *

  Taylor

  Victor was quiet on the way home and I wasn’t exactly a chatterbox myself. I kept thinking about what I felt—the possessiveness, the protectiveness. The willingness to throw myself into danger when I saw him being hurt. Was this what it felt like to be in love? It had been so long since I had any kind of romantic relationship that it was hard to tell. But even comparing with the few flings I’d had in college, the feelings I had for Victor seemed so much stronger, so much more intense.

  The question was, did he feel the same for me?

  When we got home I got straight into the shower, wanting to wash the stink of the other were off my skin. I washed with the hottest water I could stand and shampooed my hair too. When I got out, I brushed my teeth, paying special attention to my fangs. I wanted to get rid of the taste completely.

  When I finally felt clean, I put on my usual nighttime sleepwear—one of Victor’s white t-shirts, which fell to mid thigh. I rubbed my long hair with a towel until it was just barely damp and brushed it out. It fell in long waves down to the small of my back.

  When I got back to the bedroom, Victor was lying on the bed, wearing just a pair of black sleep pants. He looked me up and down and gave a long, low whistle.

  “What?” I looked down at myself nervously. “I’m just wearing what I always wear to bed.”

  “Yeah, but I’m usually in my wolf form by then,” he pointed out. “As a wolf, I mainly like the way you smell. When I’m human, I can appreciate the way you look. And baby, you look beautiful.”

  “I just got out of the shower,” I protested, putting a hand to my hair. “I don’t even have any makeup on.”

  “You don’t need any.” He reached for my hand and pulled me down on the bed beside him.

  “Victor…” I shifted uncomfortably. The excitement at the club, the danger of the fight, seemed to have calmed my heat considerably. But now, being close to him, smelling his scent and looking into his eyes, I could feel my body ramping up again. Could feel the flames of desire licking like curious tongues all up and down my flesh. I wished self-consciously that I had worn a bra and panties under the shirt but I hadn’t bothered. As Victor said, he was usually the wolf by the time I was ready for bed.

  Earlier I had been so hot I almost felt ready to admit my need and ask for his help. But now, back in familiar surroundings, I felt nervous again. Nervous and shy and filled with doubts and bad memories.

  “Victor,” I said again. “Why, um, why are you still in human form?”

  He shrugged, his broad, bare shoulders rolling with the gesture.

  “Thought you wanted to heal me. It’s a hell of a lot easier to do if you don’t have to lick through fur.”

  Well, that was true. I looked at him critically, wondering where to start. One eye looked swollen, as though he’d been hit there and there was a mark on his cheek—the spot the other were had punched him, no doubt. It was still bleeding a little, probably because the bastard had been using silver knuckles. Silver wounds could be hard or impossible for a were or a vamp to heal.

  But the obvious place to start was his throat. I’d marked him pretty badly myself with a fresh set of fang wounds and hadn’t had time to heal him before we were interrupted.

  “Okay,” I said, scooting closer to him on the bed. “Let’s see what we can do.”

  Victor rumbled assent and seemed willing to be healed. Unfortunately the marks on his throat were on the right side and I was sitting on his left, making it hard to get to him.

  “Straddle me,” he said at last, while I was trying to figure out the best angle of approach. “It’ll make things easier.”

  It would also force me to part my legs, which I had been keeping tightly shut, and get extremely close to him. I hesitated, uncertain.

  “Come on, baby, I don’t bite,” he said softly, looking into my eyes. “That’s your job, right?”

  I smiled at him. “Yeah, I guess so.” I straddled his lap, unable to help remembering that we had been in this exact same position the last time he had helped me back off the heat.

  Speaking of the heat, it was running wild in me now, burning like a barely controlled forest fire. My nipples were pressing hard against the worn white fabric of the t-shirt, making two little pink points that were clearly visible through the thin material. And when I spread my legs a little wider to get comfortable, I saw Victor’s nostrils flare and his eyes fla
shed gold. God, he could smell me—could smell how hot I was getting for him! The thought was both embarrassing and exhilarating.

  I wondered if he would say something but he just stayed silent, looking at me. His large hands rested lightly on my hips, as though to hold me in place and his eyes searched mine.

  “Well…” I cleared my throat, trying to seem normal. “I guess we should get started.” I leaned down, being careful to keep some distance between us down below, and started to lick his neck to seal and heal the wound. But to my surprise, he stopped me.

  “No.” He shook his head. “Leave that one.”

  “But…they’re really deep,” I protested. “I wasn’t as, uh, gentle as I should have been.”

  “Did you hear me complaining?” he demanded softly. “I didn’t mind. I love it when you get your fangs in me deep, baby.”

  His hot words sent a shiver through me but I tried not to show it.

  “They’re…they’re really prominent too,” I pointed out, tracing the wounds with my finger. “And they’re obviously from being bitten. If you leave them, everyone will know—”

  “That I let you drink from me? Let them,” he growled, his eyes flashing fiercely. “I’m not fucking ashamed of it.”

  “All right.” I nodded. He seemed determined to leave my mark on him and who was I to tell him different? “I’ll start with your eye instead,” I murmured.

  “Okay.”

  I placed my hands on either side of his head, threading my fingers into the thick, springy black hair. “How did you get this, anyway?” I asked as I began working on him, licking carefully around his eye socket and the tender flesh just below his eye.

  “Uh…think the guy in that retarded three wolf shirt elbowed me in the face,” he said. Then he gave a low, rumbling laugh. “God, that tickles!”

  “Sorry. Almost done.” I gave a final lick, savoring the flavor of his skin, enjoying it almost as much as I enjoyed his blood. He tasted wonderful, especially compared with the other were I’d bitten. Delicious and warm and salty with a hint of spice—why was it so different when I was with him? Shouldn’t all weres stink and taste bad to me? Then why did I find Victor’s scent so enticing? Why was his blood so delectable, so satisfying?