Taken by Moonlight (17 page)

Looking out
of the window, she noticed Conall was now speaking with one of his neighbors.
The redhead was dressed sinfully in black heels and what Vivienne decided was a
black body suit. It couldn’t be called anything else. As if one couldn’t just
look at her and tell that she had that body most women would pay plastic
surgeons for. Vivienne glared for long moments before deciding she was acting
like a jealous girlfriend and…well, she wasn’t. She was the one-night stand.
She was about to call Max to reassure him she wasn’t in a ditch somewhere when
the woman stepped close to Conall. Without so much as space for air between the
jut of her breasts and his chest, she reached out a creamy hand and caressed the
side of his face.

Before
Vivienne knew what she was doing, the car door was open and she was making a
beeline for the woman. Every sense seemed heightened, and she could hear the
angry thud of her heart as if it had crawled into her ear. That, coupled with a
large burst of energy, had her moving quickly toward her target. She didn’t
think about what she would do when she reached her. Vivienne just knew she
wanted the woman’s hands off of Conall. Irrational it was, but the
irrationality didn’t stop her. Her pace slowed when he grabbed the redhead’s
hand and tugged it from his face. His expression was absolutely murderous as he
looked down her.

Vivienne
tightened her lips and fought the urge to snarl, and then she blinked, and
shook her head. Her heart rate and the adrenaline pumping in her veins slowed.

Conall and
the redhead had both turned in her direction, and the numerous eyes that had
been on her as she sat in the car, and, apparently, had been following her, now
moved curiously between her and Conall. She was mortified. What the
hell
was
wrong with her? She’d just slept with a stranger and now she was about to beat
down another one of his…women? This looked like a scene right out of Jerry
Springer, and damn it, she wasn’t like that! She was a decent,
boring
paralegal.

Angry at
herself and embarrassed she was acting out of character, and people had
witnessed it, Vivienne turned, prepared to head back to the car, hang her head
in shame, and wait for Conall to drive her back to her apartment, where she’d hopefully
pull herself together, and forgot this entire thing ever happened. Okay, maybe
not everything. She doubted she’d ever be able to forget him touching her.

“You!”

“Samia!”
Conall’s voice was low, but anyone could hear the warning in his menacing tone.

Vivienne
spun, knowing she was being addressed, and took a step back when she found
Samia standing only inches from her. Up close, the woman was even more
beautiful. Her hair was a mass of burnished auburn perfection, her skin
flawless in its natural honey-tan, her eyes, brown in color, were probably the
only ‘average’ feature she had, and in her face even those seemed exotic. As
Vivienne studied her, Samia’s lip curled upward in an easy smile. If she had
scowled, Vivienne couldn’t have tensed more.

Samia
advanced again, but this time, Vivienne stood her ground, ignoring the feeling
of discomfort at having another person in her space. Somewhere in the back of
her mind she knew Samia was trying to intimidate her, and she refused to give
her the satisfaction.

“He’ll tire
of you—”

“That’s
none of your business,” she snapped. She definitely disliked this woman. Never
had she wanted to call a woman ‘bitch’ more.

Samia
smirked and took a step away, swiveling her head to Conall before turning back
to Vivienne. “Your race is inferior. You’re weak and can never—”

Was she
serious?
She’d
surely heard incorrectly. That was blatantly racist, so she’d obviously heard
her wrong. Well, she’d give her the benefit of the doubt first. Her mother had
always told her to give people that.

“What did
you say?” Her teeth were clenched, her voice barely audible. The question
seemed to come at a time of absolute silence.

“I said
your race is inferior. Weak. Pathetic. He will grow tir—”

Before she
could stop it, Vivienne’s hand collided with the side of Samia’s face. Her palm
stung, but she felt gratification as Samia touched a finger to her lip. It came
away red. She didn’t condone violence, obviously, but certain people deserved
it. Yes, certain racist, red-haired bitches deserved it. That felt good.

“I demand a
blood rite,” Samia hissed. She licked her lip and a satisfied smile curved them
upward. Vivienne’s brows lifted in confusion. All she’d heard was “blood” and
“rite.” What was she talking about now?

“No.” It
was Conall who spoke and Vivienne looked to her side to find him there. When
had he moved?

Samia
glared at him and then at Vivienne. “She drew first blood.”

Vivienne’s
brows crinkled. What was a blood rite? Was this some sort of cult?

“She’s not
like us. Blood rites don’t apply.”

Samia
shrugged and spun away from Conall, turning to face the crowd of people, which
had only grown larger.

“I demand a
blood rite!” Samia’s voice was loud and angry.

Conall
stepped in front of her.

Blood
rite,
Vivienne
thought in confusion.
What is wrong with this community?
People with no
jobs demanding things like “blood rites?” She’d always known the rich did
things differently, but this was extreme.

“And
I
said
no!”

Vivienne,
blocked by the breadth of Conall, could only hear Samia’s derisive laugh. She
tried to step around him but it was almost as if the man was in her head,
stepping to the left or right when she did, effectively hiding her.

“It’s the
law, Conall! Even you’re not above the law!”

“She’s not
one of us. Our laws don’t apply to her.”

“But they
apply to you and she is yours,” Samia retorted coyly. “Isn’t she yours,
Conall?”

He didn’t
answer. Instead, Raoul and Sloan suddenly flanked her. She looked up at both of
them but they were staring at Samia, their expressions grim.

What the
hell was happening?

Conall
suddenly took a step to Samia, and she heard a sharp intake of breath from
either Sloan or Raoul. She couldn’t pinpoint who.

His voice
was low as he said, “Yes, she is mine, and I always protect what is mine. You
would do well to remember that.”

Samia
sputtered as Conall abruptly dismissed her and turned to face Vivienne. His
hand was suddenly around her waist as he half-dragged her back to the SUV.
Confused, she looked back to see Sloan and Raoul facing an angry Samia. The
crowd was moving closer to the three of them, as if curious to know what would
happen.

“Conall—?”

“Not now.”
His tone was final.

As they
drove down the curved street out of Cedar Creek, Vivienne was almost certain
the man who’d awakened such hungers in her last night belonged to some sadistic
cult.

Conall was
so angry that for the first fifteen minutes, he couldn’t speak. Every time he’d
open his lips, either a growl or some kind of snarl would come out. So he
concentrated on the road, on the asphalt, the little white lines, the broken
yellow lines—that
bitch
!

Samia had
goaded Vivienne into striking her, had probably bitten her lip on purpose, and
then called for a blood rite. Among their people, a blood rite was a call for
vengeance given to a werewolf wronged by another. It was given its name because
the wrong-doer usually drew first blood in some devious way, and the collector
wanted his blood as payment. It was a bloody battle, hence the name, with both
parties nursing injuries, not fatal but painful, and a physician standing by to
attend to both. Samia had called for the blood rite knowing she had the
advantage and wanting to show she was the alpha bitch despite Vivienne’s recent
stay in his bed. Samia was a
were
; Vivienne a human, or at very least,
Conall thought so. He stole a glance at her as he remembered the chanting he’d
heard in her head and how she’d responded to his beast.

In ten
minutes, Samia would have either killed or badly mauled her. He shuddered at
the thought and a snarl left his lips. He would not allow that to happen. Ever.
Feeling his nails lengthen and his teeth sharpen, he forcefully tossed Samia
from his mind. He would deal with her when he returned to Cedar Creek. Vivienne
was his mate, and he’d kill anyone and anything that attempted to hurt her.

He finally
calmed enough to focus on her. From the corner of his eye, he noticed she was
clutching her bag tightly in her hands and pressed as far away from him as
possible. He looked down to the bag, glad that Raoul had fetched it from the
hotel that morning. He hadn’t focused on accessories when he’d hurriedly left
the hotel. Her safety had been his priority.

Sighing, he
reached out for her mind, and found himself barred from it! Confused, he tried
again, blinking rapidly when he recognized she’d put up shields to keep him
out. He pushed against one of them, testing its strength, and swiveled his head
when he realized he couldn’t penetrate them. Not unless he wanted to hurt her.
Only a sparse amount of humans were psychically strong enough to block their
thoughts from powerful immortals, and he had a feeling Vivienne wasn’t even
aware of what she was doing.

“Vivienne,”
he began, relaxing his foot on the gas pedal. He was doing sixty-five in a
forty mile-per-hour zone. That was probably scaring her as well. “What are you
thinking?”

“Nothing,”
she replied quickly, too quickly. “Oh. Thanks for driving me home.”

Conall
nodded. He wasn’t exactly driving her home. He was taking her home to see if he
could find any clues as to exactly what his mate was, but he had no intention
of leaving her there alone. Either he was staying or she would be returning to
Cedar Creek with him. Whatever had been searching for her last night was no
doubt still out there. As he’d told Samia, he always protected what was his.
And Vivienne was definitely his.

The silence
stretched between them until she finally asked, “It’s none of my business, but
are you in a cult?”

Brows
lifting, he shook his head. “No.”

“Are you
sure?”

A smile
played around his lips. Many of the members of his pack would take offense to
that. “Very sure.”

“What’s a
blood rite, then?”

The smile
faded. He could wipe that memory from her mind, but he didn’t want to. Plus,
with her shields blocking him out, he’d have to break those down, hurt her in
the process, and then pull that memory.

“It’s
nothing.”

She snorted
and murmured under her breath, “Sure you’re not in a cult.”

“I’m not.”
And then he paused as he thought of the similarities between a cult and a pack.
They lived together, kept to themselves, fought for each other, had weird
behavior. She was right. He was in a cult, just not the one she was imagining.

“So tell me
what a blood rite is,” she persisted. Conall quickly looked over at her. Her
body was turned to him, her honey eyes open, trusting and curious.

“Are you
sure you want to know?”

“Yes.” She
nodded to emphasize her answer.

“A blood
rite is an act of vengeance between two wolves,” he said plainly.

“Okay,” she
said, nodding as if she understood. Seconds later she shook her head, narrowed
her eyes, and said, “Wait. I don’t understand. An act of vengeance?”

“Yes.”

“Between
two wolves?”

“Yes.”

“So, why
would Samia call for a blood rite against me?”

“Because
she’s a wolf.”

That was
met with a loud guffaw of laughter. Conall relaxed. At least she wasn’t
throwing a hysterical fit and demanding that he stop the car. He could deal
with her refusing to believe him. He couldn’t deal with her trying to run from
him.

“I know
she’s a bitch, but a wolf? That’s a stretch.” She clucked her tongue and shook
her head. “I don’t think so.”

He smiled
at her humor. Samia was a bitch, in both senses of the known word.

“Are you
going to tell me you’re also a wolf?” she asked, relaxing in the seat and
reaching into her bag.

“Yes.”

She
chuckled. “Oh, I get it. You’re telling me you and Samia are
werewolves
?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ve
probably got some vampire pals as well?”

Conall
wouldn’t call them “pals” but they had their uses. He nodded, knowing she
wasn’t taking him seriously, but glad that he could talk freely.

“I’m
forgetting something. Oh, yes. Demons? I’m guessing you have demon drinking
buddies as well?”

“No, no
demon friends.” Because demons didn’t actually exist. Humans had created that
term for any creature unlike them. At different times in history, vampires,
werewolves, witches, and other creatures had all been demons to them.