Destiny United (20 page)

He moved as a blur, dodging and striking. He was an
extraordinary fighter, but he was slowing down. Had he been poisoned too or
just losing a lot of blood? When a werewolf exacted a brutal slash across his
chest, she searched the ground desperate for some way to help him.

She picked up a fairly large rock, tossed it a few times in
her hand, and watched the fight below. Marcelo threw a powerful punch into a
werewolf’s gut. He didn’t even budge.

A rock, Aila? Sure, if I want to
tickle them.
She sighed then spun in a circle, unsure of what she was
looking for. It wasn’t as if a machine gun was likely to appear out of nowhere.

She froze when she saw something odd leaned up against a
short spindly tree. A bow and a case full of arrows? She didn’t have time to
approach it cautiously. She ripped off the attached note, recognizing the
handwriting.

“A gift for a fae warrior ~ K.W.”

Kieran. Sheer desperation made her pick up the bow, grab
the case of arrows and run back to the edge of the cliff. Marcelo was holding
his own, just barely. Without hesitation she withdrew an arrow, fit it onto the
string of the bow like she’d seen in movies, pulled back, and released. As it
whistled through the air, she felt something tighten in her chest. Like some
piece of her was clicking into place. A twisted smile reached her lips.

The arrow hit her target and the werewolf grunted when it
lodged into his back, but he simply yanked it out and kept fighting.

She nocked another arrow, this time aiming for the back
of the head. The werewolf staggered but didn’t go down.
Damn these are tough fuckers!

Marcelo grabbed an arrow from the ground and jammed it
into the back of one werewolf’s knee. He collapsed onto the other knee and it
was enough for Marcelo to twist his head right off his neck. She blanched at
the gruesome image but shook it off.

Back of the knee it is.

She let loose two more arrows, hitting her targets, and Marcelo
finished the kills. Her arms relaxed and she inhaled a deep breath. He was
still standing. It was over.

A second glance at Marcelo and her brain finally
registered what she saw. Crimson streaks of liquid were splattered across his
body. He looked like he just walked off the set of a slasher flick where he had
the role of psychopathic killer.

She blinked and he was in front of her, radiating
violence. Three long gashes marred his chest and blood poured out with each
breath. His shoulders were tense, muscles twitching on high alert, ready to rip
apart the next threat. Aila shrunk back, doing her best to look small and
harmless. It wasn’t hard.

Marcelo’s fangs were drawn, biting into his bottom lip,
where blood dripped to his chin. His brows furrowed, shadowing his dark eyes.
His nostrils flared as he inhaled a deep breath. A fresh fountain of blood
flowed from his chest wounds, dripping down his stomach.

“I told you to run,” he said in a soft but eerie voice.
She was more used to his barking. In fact, she preferred it.

She took a step back, unable to tear her eyes from his
dark expression.

His gaze shifted from her face to the bow in her hand.
“You didn’t tell me you could shoot.”

“I can’t. I mean…I didn’t know I could. I was
just…desperate.”

His brows shot up. “You mean you’ve never picked up a bow
before?”

She shook her head.

“Yet you hit your target with every shot?”

She shrugged. “Must be easy to use.” She had no
explanation.

He rubbed a hand across his forehead, smearing blood on
the one place that was clean, and mumbled, “Bloody fae.”

One more deep breath then his hand fell to his side. He tilted
his head and narrowed his eyes. His gaze was predatory, like he was sizing her
up. She swallowed back a lump of fear and stepped backward. Her breath hitched
when she felt a thick tree trunk behind her.

“Aila,” he said in that soft, creepy voice again. “I’m
sorry.”

His eyes fluttered closed then he stumbled towards her,
stiff and awkward, as if trying to maintain consciousness. She gave him a
puzzled glare. What was he sorry for?

A heavy weight pressed her into the tree, the rough bark
biting into her back. Her arms were pinned at her sides, Marcelo’s face buried
into her neck. He inhaled her, an anguished moan escaped him. Her body
responded on an instinctual level. He was hurting, she wanted to comfort him, but
he held her immobile.

“Marcelo,” she whispered. “Let me help you.”

He picked up his head to give her a woeful glance. “I’m
sorry,
querida
.
”

With one arm wrapped around her torso, restraining her
arms, he used the other to force her head to the side and expose her neck.
Oh, no! No, no, no, no
!
 
She couldn’t even get a protest out of her mouth before
his fangs were in her skin. She gasped at the stinging pain of the initial
puncture. Then all she could feel was the blood being drawn from her vein and
Marcelo’s velvet lips against her skin.
How dare he!
She wanted to hurt him. She wanted to fight. But her body wouldn’t cooperate.
Instead she found herself relaxing against him. Melting and molding to his
larger body. Adjusting to give him better access, as if her body
wanted
to provide for him. She growled at her own
converse reaction.

A tingle in the bottom of her stomach caught her off
guard. The flutter expanded, warming her insides, spreading out along her
limbs. A sigh escaped her lips and it sounded all too pleasurable to her ears.
The suction of her blood into Marcelo’s mouth felt a little like a tug on her
soul. Like a piece of her was becoming his, forever. And she couldn’t deny
there was something sensual about it. His body crushed hers, pinning her
against the tree, and she found herself with the unexpected desire to be naked.
Her clit tingled with the memory of his wicked tongue.

Goddamn vampire! What did you do
to me?
With his neck so close to her nose she was forced to breathe him
in. His scent was wild. She nuzzled her face into his hair and inhaled.

This is so wrong!
She
hated her reaction to him. She hated him. He was stealing from her after he’d
promised never to do it!

When he finally withdrew his fangs, he lifted his head to
meet her gaze but kept his body pressed into hers. She watched his wounds heal
in only seconds. His eyes were as black as tar. He was still tense, not yet
human, on the edge of crazed, murderous vampire. With a trembling hand he
brushed her hair back from her sweaty face, his thick fingers lingered along
her jaw. She was petrified, though her body ached for him. Her breaths were
shaky but she tried to remain perfectly still. She didn’t want to provoke him –
he looked like he was a razor’s edge away from ripping into her neck again.

He bent down to the sensitive spot between her shoulder
and neck, where he’d bitten her, and licked the wound. His tongue, soft and
sensual, sent shivers down her spine. Then he pressed a gentle kiss to the same
spot and she almost melted.

When he pushed away, it left her body cold and empty. His
gaze was riveted to the bite mark, savage satisfaction burning in his eyes.
With a shaky hand she touched it and tingles ran straight to her aching core.
She groaned in agony, hating that she wanted nothing more than for him to throw
her to the ground and relieve the throbbing pressure.

He grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her into his
hard body. One hand reached under her shirt, and cupped her breast. She gasped
when he pinched her nipple, but she wasn’t sure if it was in pleasure or shock.

“And now we finish what we started,” he whispered harshly
in her ear.

Yes!
Her heart
jumped.
No!
He was too big. Too powerful. He
wasn’t in control and he would hurt her. Her muscles tensed, that familiar
feeling of helplessness surged through her. But she wasn’t a naïve fifteen year
old anymore. She was tired of having control ripped away from her time and time
again. Aila had finally hit her limit. She’d had just about all she could take
in a forty eight hour period. And she was pissed.

Aila the Meek? Aila the Doormat? Not anymore! Try Aila
the Ass-Kicking Faery! And now, the shit was going to hit the fan.

She brought her knee up into his groin, drew back her
fist, then, with all the fae strength and human will she possessed, she punched
him square in the jaw.

“
Mierda
,” he muttered as
he stumbled backwards, gripping his crotch.

“What the hell are you doing? You promised me you would
never drink from me!”

After leaning on his knees for several deep breaths, he
recovered and stood up to regard her with cold indifference. “I needed it to
heal.” He maintained a distance just out of striking range. A pity since she
had more pent-up rage to release. He also rubbed his jaw where she’d hit him,
giving her a surge of satisfaction.

“So you decided to just take my blood without asking?”
Without waiting for an answer, she stalked off, following the line of cliffs on
the edge of the woods. She needed to get away from him before she tried to kill
him.

He followed behind her. “You would have said no.”

“It was my decision to make!”

“Not when I’m dying.”

She swung around to face him, putting all her rage into a
nasty glare. “Do you think I want you to die? If you haven’t noticed, I need
you to get to my sister!”

He raised a brow. “Need me or want me?”

Arrogant asshole!
 “Right
now, neither.”

She turned back around and continued her walk along the
cliff ledge. Maybe she’d get lucky and he’d fall off. So many violent,
irrational thoughts flooded her mind it scared her. She couldn’t remember ever
feeling so angry. And hurt.

Following closely behind, he said, “I don’t remember you
saying you didn’t want me earlier when I was stroking you till you screamed my
name.”

She inhaled a sharp breath then spun around with her bow
positioned on her arm and an arrow pointed at his chest. “Thinking with your
dick again? Already? Maybe I should put it out of commission for longer this
time.” She lowered her arm so the arrow was aimed right where she needed to
make her point.

He smirked, putting her teeth on edge. “Quick to reach for
that weapon now, aren’t you?”

Although the idea of shooting the vampire on testosterone
overdrive was appealing, it wouldn’t make her feel any less betrayed. She
sighed and dropped her arm. With a long glance at Marcelo’s unrepentant
expression, she put the arrow back in the holder and slung the bow over her
shoulder. Funny how natural it felt there. She turned and stomped away.

From behind her, she heard, “If you would have allowed me
to feed from you anyway, then what’s the problem? The end result is the same.”

“The problem is you just blood raped me!”

He sighed. “Come now, you’re being dramatic.”

Dramatic? Maybe
I
will
kill him
. “You’re not the one with fang
marks in your skin, asshole!”

He
traversed
in front of
her. “Aila, please…”

“Fuck off.”

Another sigh but he let her pass. “Now you sound like
your sister.”

“Well, maybe it’s about damn time I started acting like
someone else.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Being me obviously hasn’t gotten me very far. I’ve been
a victim by whole life, I turn immortal and nothing’s changed!” She put her
head down and stalked off again, pushing back the tears that threatened to
spill. She would
not
cry in front of him. Not
now.

He
traversed
in front of her,
blocking her this time when she tried to go around him. “Aila, I’m truly sorry.
Most people enjoy the exchange of blood. It’s an aphrodisiac. I thought you’d
like it too.”

Her brows shot up. “
That’s
your apology? You’re sorry because you thought I would like it?” She crossed
her arms and rolled her eyes. “Oh. Well. In that case…be still my heart,
vampire. I am yours forever.”

His hand gripped the back of her neck. “You
are
mine forever,” he rasped in her ear. “And don’t
ever forget it.” He pressed his lips to hers with a punishing kiss. It didn’t
matter that she was pushing him away, that she was disgusted and angry with
him. He ended the kiss when he wanted to, then looked her over like she was a
piece of meat.

She narrowed her eyes and hissed, “Don’t you ever kiss me
without my permission again.”

She jerked away from him but before she could get three
steps away he grabbed her arm and swung her back around. “You are
mine
!” he growled. “I take what’s mine!”

***

Don’t push me, Aila. Now is not the time to push me.

Coming off a fight where his mate’s life was in danger,
full of adrenaline, covered in blood, Marcelo was barely holding onto his
humanity. Then he’d drunk from her and it was the most divine experience he’d
ever had. She tasted as good as he’d imagined – sweet and addictive and perfect.
When she’d pushed him away and looked at him with such disgust, it only fueled
his rage. The vampire inside him roared that she belonged to him – she was his
to enjoy. He saved her life. He deserved her. But the human part told him to
gentle her, soothe her, to give her room and time to breathe. He was caught
between the two, and right now, the vampire was winning.

That is, until he saw a single tear roll down her cheek.

She looked down at his hand, still wrapped around her
upper arm. “You’re hurting me,” she whispered.

Immediately he released her. Her eyes were haunted. Her
words from a few moments ago finally sunk in.