Taken by Moonlight (5 page)

As she
followed, Vivienne let her gaze roam the place. She saw a few others dressed
like the girl with the cut-up shirt, and they were mostly dancing with each
other against the walls next to the large speaker systems, but she also noticed
people in business attire, and some in very casual clothing. The business suits
all sat farther away, behind the bar, in the back corner. They were obviously
here to drink and talk, not dance. The casuals were all over—walking around,
talking, dancing. A mix of people were gathered tonight. She no longer felt
overdressed.

At the bar,
Max ordered a stout and two tall daiquiris. Their bartender, who looked like he
was barely twenty-one, raised a brow and asked, “Glass or bottle for the
stout?”

Max’s
response was immediate. “Bottle.”

The man
nodded and glanced at both Vivienne and Drew before going about getting the
drinks. Vivienne looked to Drew, trying not to mimic her friend’s expression of
discomfort with the place. Max had brought them there, and he’d never take them
somewhere unsafe.

“Relax.”
Vivienne started before realizing it was Max who crowded her. “Just relax. If
Vivienne doesn’t like it, we’ll leave. No one is going to hurt us—just calm down.”

Although
she nodded, Vivienne continued to survey the place. Although sizeable, she’d
seen the outside of the building. It was huge, at least four stories. There had
to be some other private rooms upstairs, probably for exclusive VIPs or
something. She looked to the walls, searching out a door or doors. She found
only one and in front of it stood another bouncer. He wasn’t large, like the
ones she’d encountered getting into the club, but he was tall with broad
shoulders, and muscular. He was dressed in black: black fitted T-shirt with the
“Fangs” logo on it, black jeans, and, from his leaning stance and sloping
shoulders, he seemed quite bored.

She was
just about to look away when the man suddenly moved, straightening as if
shocked, and stepped away from the door. With curious eyes, she watched as the
door opened inward, and a tall man walked through. He was followed by two other
men, but her eyes were drawn to him. He was now facing the man who’d been
guarding the door, obviously conversing with him. His back was to her, and she
could not make out his face though she felt an uncanny need to do just that.

Who is
he?
Vivienne
wondered, as her heart began to race. Her body went on alert, as if live wires
were shooting under her skin. Her breathing grew hitched. Anticipating seeing
his face, she had an irrational thought that seemed rational at the same time.
She knew this man—maybe.

“Here, Viv.
Your drink,” Max was saying and she heard him as if he were far off. Something
cold settled in her hand and she briefly looked down at the pink-colored drink
with chipped ice cubes floating around in it, and a small toothpick umbrella
off to the side. Her eyes lifted to man again. He was now addressing one of the
men who’d followed him through the door.

“Are you
staring at the guy with the red ponytail, too?” Drew’s voice brought Vivienne’s
eyes to her friend, who was looking in the direction of the men, a similar
drink in her hand.

She heard a
snort, a very male snort, and turned to Max, who glared at both of them. “And
that’s my cue to leave. You ladies have fun. I’m going patrolling.”

“I hope he
doesn’t expect us to wait around while he deals with his slut-of-the-night
‘cause we’re not doing it. Tonight is not about Max—it’s about you. So whenever
you want to leave, tell me. I’ll call the cab and leave him right here. Viv,
are you listening to me?” That was followed by a pregnant pause as Vivienne
tried to remember the question. “I wouldn’t listen to me either, if I had to
choose between that and the redhead.”

Vivienne
had no idea what Drew was saying but kept waiting for the man to turn in her
direction. Resting her drink on the bar, she began to move closer, so she could
see him better.

She was in
the middle of the place, he at the back. She knew Drew was next to her as her
friend was saying something about her drink. Vivienne contemplated walking past
him and turning to see his face when the man stilled. It was a subtle reaction,
but she was watching him so closely that she immediately noticed the stiffness
of his back and shoulders. Instantly, the men around him shifted, eyes swarming
as they looked for…something. The redhead reached behind his back and she had a
good idea of what he stored there.

Are they
his bodyguards?
she
wondered briefly, and all coherent thought stopped there. In one fluid moment,
the man swiveled and looked directly at her. Although she’d only seen his face
for seconds before fainting, Vivienne would remember him anywhere. Black hair,
sharp but handsome features, piercing eyes. His head lowered, and straight
black hair fell forward into his face, leaving it for the most part obscured.
She could only make out his lips, which were set in a line—neither smile nor
scowl.

What is
he doing?
Her pulse
quickened. Did he remember her? Even as that question of doubt filled her mind,
she found it oddly easy to dismiss it. She didn’t know how she knew or why, but
there was no doubt in her mind he had not forgotten her. As if of their own
accord, her legs moved, one red suede boot before the other, as she took a step
toward him.

The
restlessness set in almost as soon as Conall arrived at
Fangs
,
one
of the many establishments he owned. It was also one of the few places that
opened its doors to all creatures: weres, vampires, witches—
on occasion
—and
humans. Anyone with peaceful intentions was welcomed, and anyone looking for a
brawl was removed and treated to one by the wolves working there.

Hours
later, as Xorax, the
were
who supervised and oversaw the dealings at
Fangs, debriefed him on the minor skirmishes that had occurred while he was
away, Conall found he could take no more. He had to leave for Cedar Creek…
soon
.
He’d never been at ease in any city, but today the unease was heightened. In
fact, if he hadn’t known better, he would think his instincts were warning him
of some danger. Perhaps, the vampires or witches had reneged on their oaths to
the Council and his agitation was due to that. But he knew better. They would
not renege, not because they did not wish to, but because the
weres
currently outnumbered them. As little as twenty years ago, that would have been
Conall’s first reaction to the unease he felt, followed by a call to his pack,
and the packs that bordered his. So, with that possibility out of his mind, he
could only wonder at the cause for his feelings. As soon as Xorax was through
with the debriefing, Conall headed from the office, already seeing Cedar Creek
in his mind.

Years ago,
when the pack had first moved to New York, he’d hired contractors to create
what was now the Cedar Creek Estates, a community thirty minutes outside of the
city that housed the members of his pack. It had been acres of grassy open land
when Conall first laid eyes on it, but with the work of landscape architects
and brilliant designers, the community had become a haven. Twenty-five houses
varying in size and build, all surrounding a curved street, camouflaged by tall
trees and shrubs, along with educational and medical facilities, made up the
Estates. Although it was a gated community, the gates were never locked. No
creature who was not pack had ever stepped into their territory unless by
invite, and though some humans had driven as far as the gate, they never
entered. Although they didn’t have the heighted instincts of immortals, humans
had a “sixth sense” that usually kept them alive. As Conall stepped from behind
the door that would take him to the exit, he stopped to speak with Joshua about
Eli. Since Eli wouldn’t be returning with him, he told Joshua to keep an eye on
the pup. In the past years, Eli had gotten into a fair share of interesting
arguments, which usually resulted in brawls at Fangs. Although he’d never seen
Eli exhibit even the hint of a temper, he’d heard his nephew had mouthed off to
older, stronger
weres
before, which usually led to the pack defending
Eli….

His
thoughts halted abruptly as the most intoxicating scent hit him.

He’d caught
it the moment he’d stepped through the doors. It had been subtle, like a
human-made perfume, and although distracting, he’d found it easy to ignore. But
it had continued to grow, more and more, and he could no longer think, or
speak. His unease increased tenfold. Something strange was happening. His beast
tried to fight its way out. He froze and closed his eyes, willing the wolf to
be at peace, but still he struggled. Man and beast warred for dominance as
Conall pinpointed the scent. Female. Behind him. He pivoted and his gaze locked
on wide brown eyes and a soft mouth that was opened in a breathy “oh.”

He inhaled
again, a long draw that pulled her scent into him. It was the woman from last
night—the human Eli had chased into his lair, but today, something was
different. Very different. Her scent was changed, heightened, and it came at
him in great, seductive waves.

The beast
demanded release once more. Conall fought it, lowering his head and willing him
away. Through the black hair that had fallen into his face, he watched her. She
was moving to him. He couldn’t turn away even if he wanted to.

Before she
could take another step, he moved, beast and man in agreement on one thing:
they wanted her. He came to a stop before her, resisting the urge to pull her
to him, to take her upstairs, to see if he’d imagined correctly how her naked
body would look under his.

“Hi,” she
said breathlessly, and Conall heard the tremor in her voice as she addressed
him. Human. Mortal. He subdued the beast.

“Hi,” he
replied, testing the word. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d engaged in
polite conversation with a human. Especially a human female. His only
encounters with human females had been physical, and he’d found he preferred
his own kind, as humans were…
fragile.

“Thanks.”
Her lids drooped slightly as she stared at him. She stepped closer.
“For—ah—helping me last night.”

He nodded,
his eyes moving from her face and traveling down her body. With his heightened
senses, he could see the slight bulge of the shirt where her nipples strained
against her bra, could smell the sweet, sensual aroma of her sex, which proved
her need for him. How could he have thought her simply pretty? She was
beautiful. His gaze moved back to her lips and he growled softly when her
tongue snaked out to wet them.

Conall was
through with niceties and human formalities. His hand encircled her waist, and
he pulled her against him and the obvious arousal he was in no way trying to
hide.

Vivienne
gasped, neck arching as she looked up at him. If there were ever a time she
should struggle, this was it. She didn’t know him, and a heap of other reasons
as to why she should pull away were reeling in her head, but this was the only
man, in her twenty-three years of existence, who made her ache
.
She
wasn’t completely naïve about the things that happened between men and women,
but never before had she been this interested. She could almost see them
together, see images she’d never encountered before. Him above her, taking her
as she arched and cried out under him. She above him, neck thrown back, as he
held onto her breasts. They were so vivid.

His face
lowered to hers, and then his lips were against hers, soft and hard at the same
time, dominant and yielding.
Oh sweet merciful God
. Her hands locked
around his neck and she undulated against him, dragging a feral-sounding groan
from him, from Conall. Yes, that was his name.

Conall.

Conall
suddenly pulled away and took a step back. She came forward, her arms reaching
for him again, but his hand held her firmly as he briefly scanned the crowd of
people. A woman stood behind her, staring at them in open-mouthed shock, but
save for her, only a few of the humans gathered seemed interested. He looked
over to the workers—his pack. The bartenders were all staring at him, but when
he turned to them, they pretended to be busy. He didn’t need to look to know
that Raoul and Sloan were staring at each other and also at him as if he’d
grown another tail. Joshua, too. And probably all of the waitresses.

This was
forbidden, something their people had preached against since the beginning of
time. He was a werewolf; she was human. He should not have such a stark
attraction to her—as if she were his…his mate! The wolf lifted his head and
howled. Laws and tradition be damned! He wanted her, and he was going to have
her.

He pulled
her back against him and leaned toward her ear. “Come with me.”

A hand
slipped into his hair and he resisted the urge to growl his pleasure. Her
fingers were soft and gentle. They would feel even better against his fur. With
her body against him, and her fingers in his hair, he couldn’t help his next
actions. His hands slid around her back, and then over her buttocks, feeling
the soft globes in his hands, as he hauled her against him once more.