Moon Kissed (5 page)

So entirely
male
.

To hell with it. I’ll give myself over to the lust, drink until the hunger is no more. For once, I will experience the forbidden. It’ll be perfect. Divine.

She drew harder, taking more blood. As she did she rubbed up and down the abs beneath her, making sure to get just the right amount of pressure on her clit. It wouldn’t take much longer. Just a little bit more and she’d be there.

Dear God, no.

Stories of bloodlust suffocated those of pleasure. She yanked her teeth free and jumped away from the man beneath her as she opened her eyes. Light blinded her, burning like fire. She rushed to a blurry corner and crouched, covering her face with her hand. Since her vision was shot, she focused with her ears and nose. She couldn’t see danger. She could only hear and smell it. The fresh blood she’d taken assisted her senses. Each sound was crisp and distinct, but the scents inside the room baffled her.

The entire space smelled like Greyson.

Please say I didn’t feed from him. I’d never live down the humiliation.

Then she caught another scent. Leafy trees, woods, grass and earth. A subtle hint of smoke. The person she’d fed from was not the one she trusted. Not even close. His smell was headier, positively provocative. Whereas Greyson smelled like alcohol and smoke, this male smelled clean and fresh, like he’d recently gone for a run in the forest.

She heard the slow approach of footsteps and reached for her daggers. Her heart sank when her fingers skimmed over bare cloth and she learned she was defenseless. Her muscles flexed as she tensed and braced herself, prepared to fight whoever it was she’d fed from, blind and without a weapon.

“Easy,” a man—voice laden with desire—murmured. “Take it easy.”

“Where am I?” Her question was terse, leaving her sounding far more unsteady than she would have liked.

The floor creaked as he moved closer. “Somewhere safe.”

“Who are you?”

“Wolfe Trevlian.”

“Trevlian?” She tried to pry her eyes open and hissed when light met her retinas. Immediately she slammed her lids shut. Although she attempted to mask her fear, she wasn’t certain she succeeded. No one fucked with the Trevlian pack. It seemed she’d put her hand into the wrong cookie jar. “As in Adam Trevlian?”

“Not exactly.” He chuckled and added, “He’s my cousin.”

She pressed her hand into her face, grateful for the small shield it provided.

Could things possibly get worse? She was in a strange place—with a lycae related to the alpha of the renowned Bacchus pack—without her weapons. Her nose flared and she felt a growl of fury rising in her throat. This was the asshole werewolf’s fault—the one from the evening before. The stupid son of a bitch had come between her and her mission. If not for him, she could have gotten what she’d come for and left.

No hiccups. No complications.

No feeding from men who made her hot as the Sahara.

Her fury increased, licking at her skin, making her temperature rise. “Where the hell is he?”

“Where is who?” The laughter in his voice had evaporated.

She rose and shook herself, unwilling to remain in a position of submission. “The stupid fucking lycae who came between me and the vampyren chew toy.”

He hesitated and asked, “What do you want with him?”

“What
don’t
I want with him would be a better question.” Feeling around, she stumbled past a chair and became entangled in plastic mini blinds. “Damn it! How small is this place?”

“Calm down.” He moved as he spoke, no doubt crossing the distance. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

Angry and embarrassed, she allowed him to guide her across the room. “If you’re so worried about my state of being,” she snapped, “close the fucking blinds!”

The stranger’s nearness brought on another surge of hunger, his blood as intoxicating as the finest Bordeaux. She breathed through her mouth, grinding her teeth. What was going on? Drinking from an immortal meant the thirst should be completely appeased, not increased. And this one was definitely immortal—a friend of Greyson’s, and a lycae.

The hand at her arm vanished, fingers tugged at her waist and she sagged into a dusty chair. The man waited a few seconds before he left her side. She heard a loud clack as the blinds were closed. She cracked one lid open, then the other. Her eyes watered with unshed tears, blurring objects into strange shapes. She could walk in the sun but doing so came with a price. Her eyes were too sensitive to the light, her skin unable to withstand the hot rays of the sun for too long. The lycae strode from across the way, stopped and crouched beside her. She tried to bring his enormous bloblike frame into focus.

“Let me help you,” he murmured as though he wanted to reassure her. “What can I do?”

“Nothing.” She sighed, closing her eyes and rubbing her lids with the pads of her fingers. The only thing that could counter the burn of the sun was the coolness of the earth, and there was no way in hell she was asking a strange lycae to dig up a chunk of dirt for a mud mask.

After a second, she heard Wolfe stand. He crossed the room and she flinched when she heard a door click open and slam closed. She froze, waiting to see what he’d do next. After several seconds, she heard him returning, his feet pounding up the stairs. The door opened again, only this time he closed it more carefully. She smelled him approaching, somehow calmed by his balmy scent. The luscious aroma of his skin stopped inches from her face and she smelled the fresh earth in his hand.

“Tell me what to do,” he said and settled beside her.

It wasn’t possible. He couldn’t know how to treat her. “How did you—”

He pried her fingers from her eyes and massaged the cool soil against the stinging skin. “Like this?”

The relief was immediate. She moaned in bliss, relaxing as he tended to her. The earth felt amazing against her agonized flesh. He took his time, easing the sting, taking her pain away. God, it felt good. Too good. He was cautious. So gentle. Each swipe of his fingers was deliberate but guarded, as though he didn’t want to cause her further harm.

It had been decades since anyone had touched her so tenderly.

“That ends now,” he said unexpectedly, pulling her out of her reverie.

“What does?” The words were more of a sigh but she didn’t care. She wanted to enjoy the moment, milking each and every second for all it was worth.

He didn’t answer, repeating the ministrations. Before long, the miserable prickles disappeared. She probably looked an absolute mess but oddly enough, she didn’t care. Now that she remembered how wonderful a healing and caring touch felt, she didn’t want it to end.

“You don’t have to worry about that.” Wolfe pressed closer, and she felt the heat of his breath caress her face. “I never want to stop touching you, Arden.”

Alarm bells sounded, taking her from relaxed to alert. “How do you know my name?”

Just as the question came to mind, she had her answer—telepathy.

A mind reader. Wonderful.

Lycae had the ability to read and share thoughts, but it was weak against preternatural creatures. By taking his blood, she’d inadvertently bound herself to him. That was why she didn’t indulge in the blood of immortals she didn’t know and trust. Being blood bound was as dangerous as being enslaved. If she let him get too close, he’d know her every secret. He’d know everything about her. And—like the fool she was—she’d forgotten that the instant she’d gotten a taste of the lycae inches from her.

He must have sensed her intention to move away from him and used his broad body to keep her in place. He slid his hips between her open knees, forced her smaller body into the chair and pinned her. His fingers slid up her shoulder and around her nape.

“Don’t run.” He nuzzled her nose and moved forward. “It won’t do you any good.”

“What do you w-want?” she stammered, detesting the fear that lined her words and echoed in her mind, knowing he heard both. Even if she tried to fight, it would be a while before she could see. Like this, she couldn’t defend herself.

“Don’t be afraid.” He sounded ashamed, backing off slightly. “I won’t hurt you.”

“You’re crowding me.” She fought to remember his name, struggling to think clearly. It had been there just a second ago. Why couldn’t she remember it now?

“It’s Wolfe, remember? My name is Wolfe.”

“Wolfe,” she breathed and cleared her throat, thinking that naming a lycae Wolfe was about as imaginative as calling a cat Pussy.

“Not very inventive, is it?” Wolfe chuckled.

“Not particularly.” She groaned, unable to silence the sound when she felt his impressively hard length press into her thigh. Damn. Even through clothing, his cock felt long and thick.

“You smell so good, Arden. I want to devour you.”

Shaking her head, she attempted to move away from the hand at her neck, struggling against the sensual web he so easily weaved. One strand found another, twining into strings of raw desire. She’d never imagined a lycae would want her in his bed. They loathed those who ingested blood too much for that.

Hell must have frozen over when I wasn’t looking. I guess there’s a first time for everything. It must have been the bite that aroused him.

“We can’t.” Simple speech was a struggle. She was too swamped by his presence, unnerved by his nearness. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea. I took advantage of the situation. I wanted your blood, not a quick tumble between the sheets.”

“I liked you taking advantage. Believe me.” His lips brushed hers, his breath warm against her mouth. “And who said anything about a quick tumble? If I have my way, I’ll keep you screaming my name for hours.”

Seductive
and
arrogant. Why am I not surprised?

Feigning annoyance, she countered, “Please. All lycae want casual and unattached sex. You don’t settle, and you don’t commit. Not until you’ve found your mate.”

“You’re right.” He lifted his head. “We don’t.”

He didn’t move away, studying her. Although his face remained blurry, thanks to her run-in with the sun, something in the way he spoke frightened her. It was definitely time to pack up and go home. “If I’m right, then back off. Give me some space.”

“It’s not that simple, Arden. You can’t know how difficult this is for me. Being this close to you”—his head darted forward and he flicked his tongue against her lower lip—“smelling and tasting you. I want to lick you up like candy, see if you taste as sweet as you smell.”

“Come on.” Another longer touch of his tongue muffled her argument. “It can’t be that difficult to find a willing female.”

“No.” He shook his head, softly bumping her nose in the process. “It’s not difficult.”

She started to speak when he kissed her, snaking his tongue inside her mouth.

Oh my. Oh sweet heaven.

She hadn’t thought anything could be more potent than his blood but she’d been wrong. Each rotation of his tongue told her he knew exactly how to use it. He was experienced, that much was clear. What if he focused his attention on another set of lips? How would it feel if he buried his face between her legs? What if she let him lick her up like candy?

 
Why not find out?

Sex was something she could never risk—a lesson she’d recently learned when she’d attempted to take a lover and had nearly killed him. She was too strong for mortal men, too tempted to drink as desire merged with hunger. Lycae were superior by design. Immortals feared them for a damn good reason. They were fierce, strong and unbreakable. She could finally discover what it felt like to be free and experience sex as she was meant to.

He won’t break. He can give you what you need.

She went soft, enjoying the clean taste and incredible feel of him.

Wolfe lowered his head, nipped at her throat and licked the skin in a smooth, decisive stroke. “You concern for my safety makes me ache,
cher
.”

Cher.
The endearment triggered a memory from the night before.

Arden froze when she placed the thick, rich voice of the lycae pressed so intimately against her. It was
him
. The very person who’d allowed Taylor Martinson to slip away. Due to his interference, she hadn’t been able to home in on her final target. He’d ruined her chance to get closer to Lucius Mercoix.

Goddamn him!

He didn’t have the opportunity to brace himself. She flung her head back and slammed it forward, bestowing a full-on Glasgow kiss. The solid crack that carried through the room as her forehead met his nose was mildly gratifying. The scent of his blood filled the air. Thankfully, it wasn’t as enticing now that she knew who he was and what he’d done. She climbed over the side of the chair, swiping at her muddied eyes.

“You son of a bitch!” she screamed and struggled to see. “You slimy fucking bastard!”

“Calm down.” He spoke from lips coated in vivid red. That much she
could
see.

“Where are my weapons,
mongrel
,” she snarled.

“You’re not going anywhere, Arden.” Wolfe was angry—the blow she delivered was impossible to be happy about—but she realized he was trying to remain calm. “Not until there is an understanding between us.”