Moon Kissed (14 page)

He was beyond communication.

The shift had come hours ago. The moment the moon slid through a crack in the cloud and touched his skin, he’d taken his bestial form. He’d wanted to fight it, hoping his desperation would serve a purpose. It was too dangerous to change. He had to keep his wits about him. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been strong enough. The moon sang to him, wanting to unleash his beast. He’d answered readily, eager to heed its call. But with the heat of that glorious white glow came something else—something primordial.

The need to claim his mate.

Unfiltered desire consumed him, blocking out everything else. When the opportunity was presented and he was free of the confines of the silver cage, he would rip out the throats of his captors and leave them to rot.

Then he would go to his female.

He would kiss her.

Taste her.

Love her.

Fuck her.

Arden.

He turned in the confined space that was his cage, finding he was too agitated to rest. The heat of the moon had become too heavy. Relief would only come once he lodged his cock deep inside Arden’s tight, wet pussy. He’d plunge into her sultry body, taking refuge in the warm clasp of her cunt until this need was spent. Once his temper cooled and his mind cleared, he’d be slower, softer.

Erotic images swept through his mind.

He wanted to tongue his female until she came, just as he had on the bathroom counter they’d nearly destroyed. Then he’d force her to her knees, ordering her to suck his cock while he watched. The sight of her pink lips wrapped around his dick would be too much, shattering his control. He wanted to fuck her against the wall, to hear her beg for more. He wanted her to whimper and writhe beneath him as her pussy clenched and milked his entire length over and over again.

He shuddered, his cock hard and straining for relief.

The discomfort broke through to the man, clearing his head.
Damn it.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wanted to introduce her to the lycae way of mating differently, taking his time so as not to frighten her. He would hurt her if he took her like this. Nipping and scratching at her porcelain skin, bending her over whatever object gave him the best leverage to take her from behind. Like the beast he was, he’d pound into her silken flesh until they were locked together irrevocably.

As soon as I’m free.

Shame swamped him, along with a profound regret. He should have listened to the warlock and turned to Luke. With the power of the pack, Lucius never would have caught him off guard. The memory of a silver net falling over his shoulders enraged his beast. He’d been so determined to take matters into his own hands he’d walked blindly into a trap. The sons of bitches had been waiting, baiting him as easily. He could have demolished the entire vampyren nest for attempting such a thing if he’d had his head on straight.

But now…

A small part of him prayed he wouldn’t be able to break out of his cage. If he did, he would claim Arden for the first time under the heat of a full moon. His mate would suffer his decision as a consequence. Even if she wasn’t ready to accept him, she’d be forced to endure him.

Will have to go slow. She’s so delicate. Have to be gentle.

The scent of fear obliterated his thoughts, sending him into a crazed frenzy. A vampyren appeared in the distance, running from the line of buildings along the waterfront. Wolfe shuffled from side to side in the small space, trying to listen and understand the words spoken by those around him. Earlier—before he’d fallen to the allure of the moon—he’d been able to make sense of the whispers he’d heard.

“The pack is aware of our terms.”

“Lure her in.”

“Get her close.”

“Drop her guard.”

“Kill her.”

He’d attacked the silver bars then, going at them like a deranged madman. Minutes had turned to hours, but he couldn’t get free. All he received for his efforts were blisters, most of them bloody and oozing. There had been nothing he could do. He’d felt helpless, trapped in a cage by his own arrogance.

Only one hope remained—a small kernel of faith.

The warlock’s vow to protect Arden.

Trevor wouldn’t allow her to come, not if he could prevent it. Since the pack had been contacted, someone would arrive at any time to inform the vampyren there would be no exchange. He wasn’t worth it, his rank one bestowed but not earned. Likely they’d be elated when Luke was forced to man up and take his proper place.

“She’s here,” a vampyren called out.

Wolfe snarled and bowed his head, gazing at the blood drinker’s throat. He’d sink his teeth in deep, until he met the hardness of bone. All it would take was a firm snap of his jaws. He’d rip the head off the despicable creature, howling in delight as its blood slid down his throat.

“You’re certain?” Taylor asked, shifting his feet. The scent of his eagerness tickled Wolfe’s nose, the aroma almost sticky sweet. The bastard had been like this since Wolfe had been rendered powerless, as though it was all just a game.

“I’m positive.”

A shadow whispered over Wolfe’s cage, curving like fingers over the thick bars of silver. His keen sense of smell identified his guest. Rose-like sweetness combined with the coppery fragrance of blood. He lowered his hindquarters and shifted his weight, longing for a chance at the man, knowing he probably wouldn’t get it.

Lucius crouched and cocked his head. “All of this. And for what? Time behind bars?” He reached for the cage and Wolfe lunged, slamming his muzzle against the beams despite the silver that melted his skin. Lucius pulled back, his expression grim. “I knew she’d come. Emotion is her weakness. You should have taken me up on my offer when you had the chance.”

Lucius moved closer, and Wolfe seized the opportunity. He snapped his jaws, so close to the softness of flesh he could almost taste it. At the last second, his teeth clamped together, snagging on empty air. The vampyren’s grin infuriated him, unhinging the beast. The animal took over, driven by instinct.

There was only survival and need. One primitive purpose came before all the rest.

The scent of honeysuckle and linen drifted to his nose and he threw back his head, releasing a howl. The wait was over. The wolf would no longer be contained.

His mate had arrived.

Chapter Twelve

Arden approached Dead Man’s Dock, finding the circumstances that brought her to this place ironic. She’d found Portia here and made the vow to avenge her friend’s death. Her gaze drifted over buildings, lingering on missing slots in the brick foundation. The place was much the same, only this time dead bodies weren’t littering the concrete, permeating the air with the stench of fresh blood and death.

“Cricket,” Trevor whispered. “What are you thinking about?”

She looked to her friend as they walked to the meeting place that might or might not be the end of the line for both of them. A slathering of shadow had formed on Trevor’s face, filling the small areas around his short and neatly trimmed goatee. She didn’t want him here but it didn’t matter. Trevor marched to the beat of his own drum. Nothing could have forced him to stay behind.

“The past,” she answered, reflecting on her memories.

Sadness and understanding shone through his brilliant blue eyes. Their gazes locked for several seconds, a mutual understanding shared between them. They were two people who’d formed a dysfunctional family founded on grief and loss. He started to speak and she placed a hand on his shoulder. She knew what he wanted to say because she felt the same way.

“You don’t have to tell me. I already know.” She leaned over to kiss his darkly bristled cheek and murmured, “Me too.”

“Well then. Let’s get on, shall we?” Trevor started forward, taking long strides. “So it’s come to this. I thought the lich would be the end of us, not a horde of vampyren.” He took a deep breath, asking as he exhaled, “Do you think we’ll make it?”

She shrugged, pretending to take it all in stride. “Maybe.”

They walked for several more paces until the smell of saltwater whispered through the air. The crash of waves smashing against rocky surf and wooden beams were perfectly loud and crisp. They’d finally arrived. A few more feet and they’d be in the range of their opponents.

No more running. No more regrets. Just the here and now.

“Do you think
they’ll
make it?” Trevor asked, face forward, eyes focused.

Arden peered over her shoulder and gazed down the empty alley behind them. After a moment, she returned to attention to her comrade and met Trevor’s curious eyes. “Maybe.”

Violent snarls came from the dock, overriding the crash of the surf on the night tide. Each vicious shriek snaked its way into her chest, as though her heart was being crushed by an invisible hand. She tried not to wince, knowing the time and place to pacify her captured beast would come if she kept her mind on the plan and her eye on the prize.

“Here we go,” Trevor breathed as they strode past the buildings, revealing themselves.

A caravan of vampyren surrounded what appeared to be a horse trailer of some kind. She scanned their faces as she approached, until she found the one she’d been searching for.

After all this time. Finally.

Her relief only lasted a few seconds.

Lucius Mercoix was the very image from Portia’s vision—beautiful, large and deadly. He was dressed similarly, in an expensive dark suit and tie. His white-blond hair was trimmed short, his blood-red eyes gleaming. His fanged smile flashed brightly in the dark.

“Stop there, Mr. McAvoy,” Lucius instructed calmly. “We don’t need you for this.”

Arden felt Trevor’s absence as she continued forward without him. She glanced at the mass of bars and metal the vampyren surrounded and realized it wasn’t a horse trailer at all. The back of the truck had been transformed into a cage. The bright silver rails cast light upon the large black shape thrashing around madly inside. Worry and longing squeezed her heart, making it impossible to draw breath.

It’s him. He’s safe.

As much as she wanted to call out to Wolfe, she couldn’t.

Not yet.

Stepping forward, Lucius ordered, “Stop where you are, bitch.
Kneel
.”

The moment she complied, Wolfe’s livid snarls filled the air. The horrific sounds of his claws scraping against polished steel and silver made her want to wince. “I’m here,” she replied, eyes locked onto the expensive slacks before her. “You’ve gotten what you wanted. Hold up your end of the bargain. Let him go.”

“Look at me,” Lucius commanded in a cold tone. Lifting her chin, she met his shining eyes. “I’m going to relieve you of your head,” he informed her. “I plan to mount it on my wall.”

Wolfe’s snarls intensified, so loud they made her skin crawl. God help the vampyren. When he was finally free, he would unleash Armageddon on every leech in the vicinity. And when he was done—his body, fangs and claws bloodied—he would be coming.

For
her
.

“I wouldn’t if I were you.” She managed to speak over the gut-wrenching sounds, digging deep to find the strength to remain calm. “If you take my head, you’ll start a war with the lycae. Neither of us wants that.”

Arching a blond brow, he questioned, “Are you offering to forget that ridiculous vow of yours? Can and will you walk away from me? Honest answer now. No lying.”

She clenched her teeth. The bastard already knew the answer. “No.”

Lucius snapped his fingers and a vampyren rushed to his side. He gripped the hilt of the sword extended to him with his long, pale fingers. He gave it a practice swing. “Then war is a risk I’m willing to take. I want your life’s blood cascading on the stones at my feet. I’m going to watch as the light fades from your eyes. It was here, wasn’t it? That I killed your friend? I’m not certain as we’ve never spoken, but over the years one starts putting pieces together. Which one was it?” He leveled the blade in her direction, tilting his head. “I think it was the redhead. She stood out, you see. Caught my eye. I’d have changed her but she had a big mouth. Too bad she didn’t know how to use it properly. If she’d dropped to those knees of hers and put her lips to better use, she might still be alive.”

Never had she wanted to kill someone so much. “Last chance,” she whispered, saying a hasty prayer that things went according to her plan. “Time’s up.”

The sword arched back and came toward her.

Trevor’s loud roar sang in her ears.
“Dies Irae!”

The night sky burst full of light. Black becoming white, blinding and radiant. Several werewolves appeared alongside her, no longer hidden by Trevor’s magic. One enormous furball threw his weight into her and sent Arden tumbling to the left. The rest launched themselves at Lucius.

“It’s a trap!” Lucius snarled, planting his sword into a werewolf with a sickening slurp. He kicked the beast to the side as blood spurted and took a battle stance. Another lycae took the fallen one’s place, lashing out with sharp claws and teeth as Lucius defended himself.

Arden staggered to her feet, stunned by the sight of wolves rushing to the silver cage affixed to the truck. Vampyren tried to cut through them, hissing as they attacked the horde of wolves eager for blood. Melodic howls sent a shiver up her spine, the cries of solidarity and fellowship abundantly clear. Luke had warned her ahead of time, preparing her for the sight of the ascension. Wolfe would feed off the energy and strength of the pack and take it into himself. Then he’d challenge them, daring them to try to take his position away.