Scarlet Heat (Born to Darkness) (5 page)

Finally, I ended up using some lemon scented dish-soap I found in the
kitchen while making my tea. It wasn’t exactly what I wanted but getting a hot,
soothing bubble bath for the first time in years was such a treat I didn’t
care. Back at our old apartment, Addison and I had drawn up a regular bath
schedule because there wasn’t enough hot water for both of us to have one on
the same night. I treasured my bath nights, even though our little tub hadn’t
been nearly as deep and luxurious as Victor’s.

I piled my hair on top of my head and secured it with a pencil I found
lying on the bedside table. Really, I was going to have to get Addison to bring
me some things. I thought about calling her up and chatting about my new temporary
house right then, but from the looks she and Corbin had been giving each other,
I was certain she was busy.

A little smile crossed my lips when I thought of my tough-as-nails Vampire
Auditor best friend finally giving in to her attraction to the big blond master
vamp. Corbin had been after her for ages—intent on making her his from the
first minute he’d seen her. I was glad she had finally realized how sincere he
was and allowed herself to find love.
If
only that could happen to me…

But it wasn’t going to—not now. Once, back when I was human, before Celeste
had taken me and turned me, I had thought it would be possible. I used to
imagine finishing vet school and opening my own small animal practice somewhere
in Tampa. Treating my four-legged patients and then coming home to a loving
husband and a sweet little boy or girl at the end of the day. Maybe both—why
not? I had always loved kids and I was sure I would make a great mom.

Back when I had the ability to
become
a mom, that was. Vampires can’t have kids—the blood flowing through our veins
is too cold and there isn’t enough nutrition in it to nourish a fetus. Not to
mention the fact that even if I
could
get pregnant and carry a baby to term, I still wouldn’t do it. Because getting
pregnant would entail having sex with someone and that was something I had
sworn off forever.

“Never again,” I whispered, sinking lower in the tub, letting the lemon-scented
bubbles cover me. “Never…never again…”

I don’t know how long I stayed in the tub, dozing and sipping the soothing
chamomile tea. Hours, probably—I just kept adding hot water. Anyway, it was
long enough to finish my tea. I wondered idly where Victor had gotten it. He
didn’t seem the type to drink any kind of tea—let alone the fussy herbal stuff.
Maybe it was a present from his mom? An old girlfriend? Imagining him with
another girl made me uncomfortable for some reason. I closed my eyes and let my
mind drift to other, more pleasant subjects.

“Want me to scrub your
back?”
he’d say, coming in to the bathroom while I was taking a bath.

“Sure.”
I would sit up,
gathering the bubbles around my breasts demurely, and presenting him with my
bare back.

“Mmmm…”
His voice would
be a deep growl of approval as he sat on the edge of the tub and slid one big,
warm hand over my naked, shivering back. He would soap me for awhile and then
his hand would slide lower, slipping down under the waters to find my pussy and
cup me there. I would feel those long fingers parting me, letting the hot water
rush in to stroke my silky folds until I moaned…

This time I didn’t try to fight the fantasy. I didn’t know why I kept
having these visions—it was bizarre to say the least, since I didn’t even
really know the big were—but I was tired of trying not to imagine him. He might
be big and scary and rough around the edges but he was much nicer to think
about than the horrible things I’d gone through while I was at the mercy of
Celeste.

The feelings grew inside me until I couldn’t help myself anymore. Slowly,
my hand dipped beneath the bubbles. I gave a little moan when I cupped myself—I
couldn’t help it. I had thought this part of me was dead and yet, here tonight,
it seemed very much alive. I slipped my fingers into my pussy and caressed the
hot little bud of my clit. My own touch felt wonderful but I could feel my body
aching for more, begging for the rough yet gentle touch of someone else…

I touched myself slowly at first and then more rapidly, giving in to the
pleasure that overwhelmed me again and again. And yet, I still wasn’t
satisfied. Why—?

A long, desolate howl suddenly cut through my pleasurable contemplation. My
heart pounding, I sat up in the tub with a jerk that sent a wave of lukewarm
water over the side. Looking up at the window located in the shower stall, I
was shocked to see the first gray-pink tendrils of dawn creeping in.

I felt a stab of shame. What was wrong with me? How long had I been lying
here, touching myself and indulging in fantasies I had no business imagining?
What would I do if Victor came back home right this minute? After all it was
dawn—weres everywhere would be shaking off the call of the moon and going back
to their human forms. A were or shape shifter can’t take their animal form
during daylight hours—at least, none that I had ever heard of. So no matter
where he was, Victor was probably human. And if he came home early and found me
lounging in his tub, touching myself…

The thought was enough to send me up and out of the tub in record time. I
pulled the plug, grabbed a towel (did the man own any linens that were
not
navy blue?) and dried myself off
hurriedly.

I went to grab my clothes off the floor, only to find they had been soaked
by the rush of tepid water I had sent over the side of the tub. Great—
now
what was I supposed to do? I
couldn’t hang around Victor’s house naked or wrapped in a towel.

The howl sounded again, much closer than before. It made me jump and not
just because of its proximity. There was something in the long, mournful
sound—a note of pain I had heard often enough before in my old life working at the
animal hospital.
Pain. It’s in pain.

Immediately the vet part of me, the part that had loved animals from the
first time I had brought my mother a tiny baby squirrel that had fallen out of
a nest to nurse and raise, woke up.
I
have to help it. I
have
to.

Leaving my wet clothes in a sodden mass on the floor, I went back to the
walk-in closet and grabbed a white t-shirt out of the laundry basket. I could
smell Victor’s scent on it and when I pulled it on, the hem fell almost to my
knees. The soft, worn cotton felt comforting against my bare skin.

The howl sounded again—this time closer to the house. I ran to the kitchen
and heard a thumping sound coming from the other side of the door.

I peered out the half circle of glass located high in the kitchen door,
standing on my tiptoes to do it. Just outside was the biggest wolf I had ever
seen. It was whining and pushing its furry head against the door, causing it to
rattle in its frame and making the thumping sound.

I stood back, gnawing my lower lip in indecision. Was it Victor? Should I
let it in? But how could it be him? Dawn was definitely here. I could see the
grayish-pink light growing slowly more golden and I could
feel
the sun, like a weight in the sky above me. Soon that weight
would press me into the ground, wearing me out, forcing me to give in to sleep
whether I wanted to or not. I still had a little while before I was literally
knocked unconscious by the unseen ball of fire in the sky, but I needed to make
a decision soon.

I looked out the high window at the top of the door again and saw that the
wolf had backed up a little. It was looking up at the door with a mournful
expression in its big golden eyes.

But it wasn’t the wolf’s eyes that drew my attention—it was holding one
front paw carefully up and out from its body. Hanging from the paw was a trap—a
thick, dull silver thing with sharp, wicked looking teeth. The teeth had
pierced the wolf’s forepaw and rivulets of blood had run down its leg and
matted its grayish-black fur.

That was it—my mind was made up. I couldn’t leave an animal to suffer like
that—even a dangerous one that might hurt me.

I had to let it in.

Chapter Four—Wolf

Hurts. It hurts. Ithurts ithurts ithurts. Thoughts are not clear when I
am Wolf but that is always true. I am running, trying to get away from the pain
in my leg but I can’t, o, I can’t. The wind coming through the trees tells me
other wolves are there, other wolves are following. Do they know I am hurt? Are
they closing in for the kill?

Instinct sends me home, to the wooded house the man built. He/I—we share
this body. Sometimes another shares it too but I don’t like to think of him.
The almost Wolf. The in-between one. He frightens me until I want to bite
someone, to gnaw my way out of the danger and run and run and run.

I reach the edge of the woods and see the man-house standing there in the
first light of dawn. I want to go toward it but something tells me not to—a
message, distant but direct, coming from the man who is somewhere far in the
back of my head.

“Don’t go near the house. Leave the girl alone.”

I howl in pain and confusion.

What girl? Why should I care about her? The man-house means safety,
refuge from the hunting pack that may or may not be chasing me. And maybe even
a stop to the pain, the sharp, piercing agony that grips my left foreleg and
won’t let go.

I want to go to the house. I can feel the man in the back of my head,
watching me, telling me no. The impulse he sends to stay away tries to stop me
again but this time I ignore it. The house is safety. The house means no more
pain.

But when I get there, the wooden door is shut. Why is it shut? The man
always leaves it open for me. He knows I walk the day sometimes, keeping the
body we share longer than I truly should. He leaves the door open and some meat
on the floor, in case I haven’t caught anything during my hunt. But not this
time—this time it is shut.

I push against the door, rattling it in the frame. The silver biter
digging its teeth into my paw hurts more with every minute. Why can’t I come
in? I want to come in!

I lift my head and howl, giving voice to my frustration and pain. Let me
in! Please let me in!

Suddenly, a miracle—the door opens. I start to go to it…and stop.
Standing there is a girl, but not just any girl—a dead one. A growl starts to
build in my throat. Wolves don’t like dead ones. They are not right—not
natural. My instincts say they shouldn’t exist. I do not like things that
should not exist—they confuse and frighten me.

The dead one is pale with big, sky-colored eyes—a pale girl. What is she
doing in the man-house? Why is she in the place the man and I share?

I growl at her again but the pale girl doesn’t seem frightened—or at
least, I don’t catch the scent of fear from her. She crouches down and whispers
to me, calling me by a name that sounds familiar. The man’s name? I cock my
head to one side, trying to understand. Slowly, I limp-hop a step forward.

“That’s it.” The pale girl’s voice is soft and coaxing. It sounds
nice…soothing. She calls me from the doorway and I take another hobbling step
forward. Her scent is stronger now and I take a deep whiff. Funny, she doesn’t
smell much like a dead one. But she doesn’t smell human either. She smells…she
smells almost like another Wolf. Which doesn’t make any sense. How can a dead
one be a Wolf?

“Come on, boy. Come on,” the pale girl coaxes. I am almost to the door
now but when she reaches for me I am suddenly frightened. I don’t know her—how
can I trust her?

I jump back out into the yard and give a short, painful
yip
as the
silver biter grinds its teeth in my paw. Hurts. O, it hurts and hurts and
hurts. Please, make it stop. Make it stop hurting!

The pale girl is still crouched in the doorway. She looks up at the sky
and now I smell a fear scent on her. But she isn’t frightened of me—she is
scared of something in the sky. The sun? The light? It is getting brighter and
brighter—soon it will be day. I should leave and let the man take over but
somehow I can’t. I am stuck, as I have been many times before.

The pale girl looks stuck too. She wants me to come to her but I cannot—I
fear her touch. I fear the pain in my paw. I fear I will be stuck forever and
the man will never come forward again.

The girl looks up at the sky once more and seems to make up her mind.
Slowly, carefully, she steps outside, past the doorway. At once her fair skin
begins to blister. I see the pain in her eyes and smell the hurt in her scent
but she doesn’t shout or cry or run away. Instead, she walks slowly toward me,
talking softly in that soothing voice.

I am beginning to like that voice. Beginning to like it very much.

“Come on, boy,” the pale girl whispers, holding out her hand to me.
“Please come in. I can’t be out here much longer, the sun is almost up. Please,
just come in and let me help you.”

Her voice is kind and her scent is right. I make a decision. Going
forward, I butt my head gently against her knees. The pale girl strokes me, her
fingers gentle in my fur. I shiver all over—she is good. I know it now—the pale
girl means me no harm. She will help me—she is part of the house. Part of the
safety and the end of pain.