Unclaimed (24 page)

Why wouldn't her legs go any faster? Her lungs burned with effort, and sweat dripped down her back as she stumbled blindly through the fog-laden woods. He was right behind her. Always. His energy signature, the spiritual fingerprint that was so distinctly his, rolled around her in the mists. Behind her. Above her. In front of her.

He
was
everywhere.

His
energy
enveloped
her, but still—she couldn't see him.

Layla's breath came in heavy, labored gasps, and a bare branch caught in her long, curly red hair as she tripped over a log. She pulled the tangled strands away, swore softly, and ducked behind the trunk of a giant old elm tree. Layla pressed herself up against it, praying he wouldn't see her. In response to her silent plea, the fog in the dream realm thickened and provided additional shelter from her relentless hunter.

She'd been able to avoid him so far, but tonight it felt as if he was dreadfully close to finding her—and claiming her. His powerful energy swamped her and stole from her lungs what little breath she had left. She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed that the tree and the fog would swallow her up. Could she do that? Could she control the environment of the dream that much? Just as she was about to try, an unfamiliar voice tumbled around her.

Why do you run from me?
The
smooth, deep baritone flooded her mind and filled every ounce of her being in a shockingly intimate way. The sharp pang of desire zipped through her and made her breasts tingle. The sudden onslaught caught her off guard and had her head spinning.

Layla
froze.

He'd never spoken to her before. She could barely hear him above the rapid pounding of her heart and wondered for a moment if she'd imagined it.

You did not imagine it.
His
voice
had
become
irritatingly
calm.
Please answer my question
.
Why do you run away from me?
That
distinctly
male
voice
rumbled
through
her. It reverberated in her chest just like the deep bass beat of one of her favorite songs.
Why are you afraid of me?
Amusement
laced
his
voice
and
floated
around
her
in
the
fog.

That
did
it. Now she was pissed. He was laughing at her? First he haunts her sleep every night for the past two weeks, and now he's making fun of her? Oh, hell no! Layla's eyes snapped open, and she expected to find him—whoever he was—standing right in front of her. However, she was met only with the thick fog she'd created.

I'm not afraid of you.
She
placed
her
hands
on
her
hips
and
looked
around
at
the
swirling
mist. Layla tilted her chin defiantly.
I just don't want anything to do with you. So why don't you piss off!

Rich, deep laughter floated softly around her.
You make it sound as if there is a choice in the matter.

You bet your bossy ass there is.
Layla
shouted
boldly
into
the
gray
abyss.
I decide my fate. Me. Layla Nickelsen.
She
pointed
at
her
chest
with
her
thumb.
Me. Not you or anybody else.

She
waited. The beautiful sound of silence encircled her. Was he gone? She sharpened her focus and found him quickly. No. His energy still permeated the dream but had lessened. He had backed off? Interesting.

Layla
stepped
away
from
the
tree, and the fog retreated in response. She steadied her breathing as her heartbeat slowed to a normal pace. A victorious look came over her face as she found herself gaining control. She pushed her hair off her face and watched the familiar woods where she had grown up come slowly into focus. A satisfied smile curved her lips; she nodded and made a hoot of triumph.
Fate can kiss my ass.

The
words
had
barely
left
her
mouth
when
two
strong
arms
slipped
around
her
waist
and
pulled
her
against
a
very
tall, hard, and most definitely male body. Stunned and uncertain of what else he might do, Layla stayed completely still and glanced down to discover that her hands rested on two much larger ones. She could feel his heartbeat against her back as it thundered in his chest and thumped in perfect time with hers.

He
dipped
his
head, and warm, firm lips pressed an unexpectedly tender kiss along the edge of her ear. Luminous heat flashed through her with astonishing speed, making her breasts feel heavy, and sending a rush of heat between her legs. It took every ounce of self-control to keep from sinking back into his strong, seductive embrace. Her body's swift reaction was positively mortifying. She shivered, bit her lower lip, and fought the urge to turn around and kiss him. Why, and how, could she be turned on like this? Layla stiffened with disgust at her lack of self-control and her body's obvious attraction to his.

You cannot outrun your destiny.
His
surprisingly
seductive
voice
dipped
low, and his breath puffed tantalizingly along the exposed skin of her neck
.
She
closed
her
eyes
and
tried
to
fight
the
erotic
sensations, but it was like trying to stop the tide as it throbbed through her relentlessly.
And for future reference, Firefly, the only one kissing your ass—or anything else on your beautiful body—will be me.
He
released
her
from
the
confines
of
his
embrace
and
disappeared
with
the
mist.

***

The shrill ring of the motel's wake-up call tore her from sleep. Without even looking, Layla picked up the receiver and slammed it down harder than necessary. For the first time in a long time, she hadn't wanted her dream to end. That was a switch. She pushed herself up onto her elbows and blew the bed-head hair out of her face. She looked around the cheap motel room and squinted at the sun that streamed so rudely into her room.

“Why can't the damn curtains ever close all the way in these places?” Her sleepy mumble echoed through the empty room. The memory of last night's dream was still fresh and raw, which was painfully evident by the heat that continued to blaze over her skin. Layla flopped back down and threw her arm over her eyes. It looked like her bossy stalker was right.

There was no escaping fate.

“Shit.”

White light pulsed and flickered through the club in time with the gritty dance music. The crowd of writhing bodies throbbed with the unmistakable energy of lust as they clamored for a connection—any connection. Hands wandered, looks were cast, and figures melded together, almost becoming one.

Maybe living like a human wouldn't be that bad.

Marianna leaned back in the horseshoe-shaped VIP booth and watched the humans as they danced. The scene before her flickered rapidly between darkness to blinding, artificial light as the strobes flared. She observed couples as they disappeared into the crowd, losing themselves in the music, the sex in the air, and in the moment.

No conversations. Eyes closed.

No past. Bodies touching.

No future. Hips swaying.

No consequences.

Just now.

She sipped her champagne and crossed her bare legs as she witnessed the mating rituals that they participated in with relentless energy. They spent their lives looking for someone to ease the loneliness, with no idea who or what they were looking for. No predestined mate. No clan. No telepathy. No shapeshifting. No powers of visualization. Aging and eventually dying.

On second thought, living like a human was going to suck.

Marianna shuddered and took a swig of her champagne. As a pure-blooded Amoveo female from the Bear Clan, she should have found her mate by now, or he should've found her, but he hadn't. Having past her thirtieth birthday, she could already feel her Amoveo abilities waning, and if she didn't find her mate soon, they would disappear altogether, and she would have to live, for all intents and purposes, as a human.

Mateless. Powerless. Alone.

Yup, she thought, sighing heavily, it was going to suck.

The bass beat vibrated the tabletop beneath her fingers. Hayden sat next to her with his arm draped behind her, wearing his usual air of irritating arrogance. She wanted to tell him where he could stick it, but instead, opted for ignoring him as much as possible.

He hated this place—most Amoveo did because it was owned and operated by vampires—but of course, that's exactly why she came here. Up until tonight, hanging out at The Coven had been a surefire way to keep Hayden and the rest of the Amoveo out of her hair. Apparently, his desire to try and get her to mate with him overrode his innate disgust of vampires.

“I have to admit, Hayden,” she said over the music. “I'm more than a little surprised that you came to The Coven tonight.”

Marianna glanced at him over the rim of her glass and offered him a tight smile. She could still connect with any Amoveo telepathically, but didn't necessarily want to. She didn't care for being next to him in the booth, so the last thing she wanted to do was invite him into her head.

“You practically live here now.” He drained the rest of his scotch. “Although I can't fathom why.”

He didn't look at her, but leveled his dark eyes at the humans who passed by their table. Marianna noticed how hard and unforgiving his features were. Hatred and contempt oozed off him like bad cologne and stuck in her throat. She knew most women found him handsome, but she thought he was far too much of an asshole to be attractive.

Hayden was a self-entitled tool who rode his father's coattails with obnoxious ease and made no secret that he wanted her for himself. He wasn't her predestined mate, and he knew it as well as she did, but that didn't stop him from trying. Unfortunately.

“Olivia is my friend, Hayden. If I'm going to go clubbing in the city, then I may as well go someplace where I'm friends with the owner.” She narrowed her eyes and struggled to keep her voice even. She didn't want to fight with him. She just wanted him to go away. “I like sitting at the VIP booth and doing a bit of people-watching.”

“Your
friend
? She's a vampire,” he said with contempt. “Vampires are dirty, disgusting creatures. They drink the blood of humans, which makes them no better than humans. In fact, it makes them worse and puts them far below us on the evolutionary chain. If it weren't for you, I would never step foot in a place like this.”

At that moment, a young human girl with dark, heavy eye makeup sauntered by the table and gave Hayden what was surely her most seductive look. Clad in a tiny black dress, fishnets, and several tattoos, she looked like a regular here at The Coven. She ran one hand through her long dark hair and winked at Hayden as she swayed to the music.

Hayden promptly looked away and inched closer to Marianna. The girl shot him a dirty look and turned her attentions to another clubgoer who had almost as many tattoos as she did. Moments later, they were absorbed into the dancing mob.

“As for your
people-watching,
” he sneered, “I could do without it. I may as well be at a farm watching pigs wallow in mud.”

Your friend looks a tad uncomfortable.
Olivia's voice touched her mind gently, and Marianna suppressed a grin. She scanned the club and found Olivia behind the bar with her two bartenders—both vamps. Her bright red hair made her easy to spot in the sea of black. Olivia was the owner of the club, the head of this all-female vampire coven, and one of Marianna's best friends.

He's not my friend, and you know it, but I'm thrilled that he's squirming,
Marianna thought back with a smirk.
You have to come over here soon. It will annoy him and hopefully get him to leave.

He's not bad looking, but you obviously loathe him, and you already told me he's not your mate, so why even bother?
Olivia continued to make drinks and tend customers without missing a beat.
Tell him to fuck off.

Let's just say it's politics.
She gripped her champagne flute and gave a slanted glance toward Hayden.
I have no interest in picking sides in this stupid civil war that my people started. However, I'm getting tired of playing nice. Now be a good friend. Get your ass over here, and flash him your fangs.