Moon Kissed Page 6

  “Trevor!” she screamed, betrayal etched in her face.

  Wolfe watched as the warlock approached, turning slightly so Arden could see. Her anger and hurt was brutal to absorb—a miserable twisting of his heart and gut. He hated seeing her like this. Funny, as he didn’t even know her yet. But he would. He’d learn everything there was to know about her. He’d become her refuge and home. The one person she could always depend on.

  “You don’t know it yet, but mating the lycae is for the best. Now you’ll have the protection I couldn’t give you.” When Arden turned away, Trevor sighed. “You can’t keep living like this. Hell, neither can I. Worrying about you night after night is aging me prematurely. I know you’re angry, but I hope that eventually you’ll understand why I did this.” Trevor met Wolfe’s gaze. “What’s your name?”

  “Wolfe Trevlian.”

  The warlock didn’t react as Arden had, unfazed and unimpressed by Wolfe’s stature in the pack and his relation to the alpha of the area. “I know your face, Wolfe Trevlian. And I’ll be holding you to your vow. I don’t care if you’re related to the goddamned creator. You harm her, and I’ll hunt you down. You don’t want that. Trust me.”

  “I won’t harm her.”

  He didn’t have to say it, but he did anyway. The warlock obviously knew and understood the lycae way of life. If he hadn’t, the male wouldn’t be speaking. He’d be resting face up on the floor with his neck torn apart. Thank God Trevor had made the right choice for everyone in the room.

  Trevor nodded and turned away. “You don’t have to convince me. You have to convince her.”

  Wise words.

  Too bad he had a feeling that would be easier said than done.

  Chapter Six

  “I’m going to need my hands.”

  Wolfe relinquished his grip on Arden’s fingers and circled his arms around her waist, apparently uncaring that she wanted him to get away from her. The touchy-feely lycae had refused to give her any space, even when they’d had made the trip across the Quarter in Trevor’s Jeep.

  Her faced burned hot.

  Wolfe had forced her to sit in his lap, which gave him the perfect opportunity to caress her in the most intimate of ways. Each time Trevor had glanced over at them in passenger seat, Wolfe’s large hands smoothed over the surface of her thighs, back and stomach possessively. His meaning was evident. She was his, and he had no qualms about showing the entire world just that. Her former friend turned traitor couldn’t wait to drop them off, and peeled rubber the moment they exited the vehicle and slammed the car door shut.

  The damn bastard.

  “You like my touch, Cricket.” Wolfe nipped her neck. “You know it, and I know it. It’s a good thing too, because I love touching you.”

  She cringed at the nickname Trevor had given her a decade earlier—something the man adored as much as she detested. Thankfully no one had ever heard Trevor call her that.

  Until now.

  The damn nicknaming bastard.

  Wolfe’s tongue followed the line of her neck, sending prickles along her skin. “I think it suits you.”

  “Don’t you have pack things to deal with?” She bent as best she could with Wolfe wrapped around her, attempting to find her key, get inside and take a shower. Recalling his presence during her scuffle at the pub, she grumbled, “Or should I say, don’t you have vampyren things to deal with?”

  “Not right now. I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

  Rolling her eyes, she retrieved the key inside one of the flowerpots. The cool soil along the carved edges was clumpy, worked deep into the crevices. She shook the shallow grooves clean before stepping closer to the door. The deadbolt turned with a loud click. She grasped the knob and pushed, knowing she’d need a bit of elbow grease. The place was perfect for her but needed some fine-tuning.

  The front door wouldn’t budge without the assistance of immortal strength.

  As soon as she stepped inside, the reality of her situation slammed into place.

  She’d never been this uncomfortable in her own home. This was her sanctuary, a private place to relax and unwind. Now it would be nothing more than a cage. One she would be forced to share with a lycae bound and determined to possess her. Even now, she could feel the hard ridge of his cock against her buttocks, finding herself drawn to the alluring heat of his skin.

  Damn it. She wasn’t immune to him as she should be.

  There was no way to describe what she was experiencing. Desire had overridden sound judgment. Wolfe’s throaty chuckle told her he picked up on the thought, and she wanted to throttle him. He seemed to derive pleasure from being as close to her—mentally and physically—as possible.

  Walking into the apartment was difficult. Wolfe was a good foot taller than her five-feet-six inches, his long muscular legs bumping hers as he shuffled forward. She considered asking him to let go but knew it wasn’t going to happen. The hand he’d placed against her stomach brought her closer.

  “You’re going to have to release me at some point.” She sighed, guiding him across the long living space to the winding kitchen counter.

  “Never, t’keeira.”

  Afraid to know but too curious not to ask, she questioned, “What does that word mean? Is it lycae for mate?”

  She felt his face brush her hair. “Close. It means most beloved one.”

  The urge to relax against him was stronger, the deep, inner longing and want becoming impossible to ignore. It wasn’t enough that he had the looks of a god. He was also blessed with a voice so sleek and sultry it accentuated the adoration he had no shame professing. To her embarrassment, she realized and accepted she was excited about uncovering his body, anxious to take him to her bed.

  “This is insane,” she muttered, straining to reach the flashing answering machine on the counter. They didn’t even know each other. Feelings that led to a binding—and in this case absolute—commitment came from developing a strong connection with someone.

  It should have been deeper. More emotional.

  Not an all-consuming lust.

  The vintage machine rewound in a wretchedly high-pitched squeal. It came to a stop and the messages started. The first two were prospective clients wishing to procure services to locate missing family members. The third was a blank recording. When the fourth message started and she heard Michael’s deep baritone, she tried to reach out to press the Erase button.

  “Listen,” Michael said, continuing on, “Since you won’t answer your phone, I guess I’ll have to plead my case here.”

  Wolfe’s warm fingers wound around her wrist and prevented contact with her target. She listened, mortified, as Michael apologized for their failed date weeks before. He asked her to reconsider her decision to stop seeing him. It had taken three years for him to wear down her defenses—an eternity for a mortal man—and as a deserter of the Thymeria human faction, he knew what she was. That was what had fascinated him in the first place, what had ultimately encouraged him to risk everything to experience a night in her bed. She’d only relented because—as an immortal approaching the dreaded half-century mark—she wondered what she’d been missing.

  Oh how she regretted that decision now.

  The message was too intimate, too damn personal. When he mentioned his behavior, alluding to the bite he’d begged for that had nearly killed him, she wanted to fold in on herself and die. If she could have shriveled and vanished into the floor to escape Michael’s voice, Wolfe’s presence and her own humiliation, she would have.

  The message ended and the tape stopped, leaving her standing in a very odd and uncomfortable silence. The lycae male that believed her to be his other half had just listened as another man presented a very vivid picture of an envisioned future together.

  “You’re involved with someone?”

  The question was falsely impersonal—posed as if Wolfe was asking about the weather—and they both knew it. So many answers came to mind, but she didn’t want to speak. She chose to s
hake her head instead, attempting to find a small reprieve.

  “Do you love him?”

  “No.”

  “Did you love him?”

  “No.”

  Still calm, he asked, “Is it over?”

  She didn’t understand why he didn’t just read her mind for the answers. Then it struck her that he was probably afraid of what he might find. Michael’s profession of love was more than adequate.

  “It’s over,” she whispered.

  In two beats of her heart, she was turned and pushed against the counter. Wolfe caged her torso with his arms, her breasts flush against his chest. In a deft motion, he removed her glasses. His green eyes were no longer dark and leafy but the shade of bright, vivid emerald. The hands that cradled her jaw were feather light, the touch far gentler than she would have believed possible. His face was so close that his breath marked her lips.

  “Kiss me.”

  Resisting the allure of his eyes and voice was next to impossible. But she knew that the moment she submitted it was over. One kiss was all he needed. The rest would follow naturally. The attraction between them was undeniable. “We need to talk first. We hardly know one another.”

  Turning his head from side to side, he teased her nose with his. “We know each other better than you’re willing to admit. You know it too. This isn’t a minor dalliance that ends with us exchanging phone numbers and meeting for casual sexual encounters. Nothing else matters, only you and me. The rest is irrelevant.”

  His succulent scent seeped into her nostrils. The walls of her pussy spasmed and her nipples strained against her bra. She’d never smelled anything like him before. She took a deep breath, awash in the amazing fragrances. Clean and fresh but somewhat earthy, like he’d showered before he took a quick hike through the woods.

  “Arden?” Wolfe’s murmur sounded far away even though he was directly in front of her. “Are you okay, baby?”

  “I don’t even know why you were meeting with the vampyren,” she rasped and shook her head to clear her thoughts. “I don’t know if I can trust you.” Her eyes slid shut and she bit back a moan when he released her face and trailed his fingers down her arms, conscious of every nerve ending he touched. Desperate to find some measure of balance, she attempted to maintain a conversation. “If Taylor Martinson is a friend of yours, it’s going to be one hell of a problem for me.”

  “Look at me.”

  She opened her eyes and met his shifting, multihued irises. The green was darker along the edge, his pupils dilated. More of his luscious scent hit her like a punch to the solar plexus, making her want to wrap her arms around his neck and take him to the floor.

  “I am not a friend to any of the vampyren, nor to any of the Thymeria,” he said, gravity and seriousness heavy in his words. “I met with Taylor as a favor to Adam. Before he left the city on personal business, he asked me to take care of the pack. Dealing with the vampyren was strategic. Nothing more. There’s no love lost between us.”

  Wounding betrayal returned, like a knife slamming into vulnerable skin. She was so close to her goal. Her vow nearly fulfilled. “Why did you have to stop me? Why didn’t you just back off and let me finish what I’d started?”

  The hands at her wrists traveled up, until he cradled her face in each of his palms. “I didn’t know about you—about us. I reacted before someone got hurt.”

  “I won’t stop hunting them,” she informed him softly, resting her hands on his forearms. “Not until I kill the bastard I’m searching for.”

  “Why? You don’t need the money. Not anymore.” His thumb caressed her cheek. “You have me. From here on in I’m going to take care of you.”

  Smooth. Real smooth. Talk about making her knees weak. “It’s not about the money, it’s personal.” She wasn’t sure if she was ready to talk about Portia with him, so she didn’t. “You want to take care of me, do you? What did you have in mind?”

  His skin felt incredible, so warm and solid; the dark hair along the surface tickled the fleshy pad of her palms. She felt him quiver, and he thrust his hips, shoving his cock firmly against her. Once he got under her skin, she’d never find a way to get him out. Her knees went weak when he gave her a full-on smile.

  “What are you grinning at?” she asked, short of breath.

  “I didn’t know crickets were so ballsy.”

  His lips covered hers—the caress as soft as moonlight—and she was lost.

  Her mind swam, thoughts of what she wanted to do to him taking over. She’d drop to her knees, tease his cock and sac with her hands and mouth and listen as he groaned in pleasure. The sound would be intoxicating. Something she’d never forget. He was determined to have her and she was going to let him. To hell with tomorrow. This was her chance to take what she wanted, when she wanted it. No more waiting. No more uncertainty.

  This day belonged to her.

  He lifted her by the waist and placed her on the counter, their lips never breaking contact. Her leather pants snagged against the wooden surface, causing her panties to rub her sensitized clit. She groaned, needing more friction, rolling her hips. His tongue slid past her lips, taunting her to play. His masculine scent was wondrous, his taste delicious. Her entire body came to life, as though she’d been reborn in some strange way.

  His lips left hers, ventured to her cheek, skimmed down her jaw and followed the line of her throat. She whimpered and grasped his arms, allowing her head to fall back. His tongue glided along her skin, increasing the fire coursing through her veins, stoking an agonizingly empty ache in the pit of her belly.

  “So responsive,” he growled, cupping her pussy with his hand. “I can’t wait to see if you taste as good as you smell, Arden. I want to drown in you.”

  She moaned, remembering how good he’d tasted—his blood had been so thick, rich and addictive. Her canines lowered, her gums pulsating as her fangs lengthened. She would sink her teeth into his throat while he claimed her body. They would give and take, providing for and nourishing one another.

  “Where’s the bedroom?”

  She shook her head and pressed her face into his neck. She was covered in grime and earth. Her hair was tangled and she looked a total mess. If he was going to take her, she would make sure she was clean.

  “The bathroom is down the hall on the left. I need to clean my face. I feel like a mud-infested sewer rat.”

  The spine-tingling sound of his laugher drenched her panties. “The shower is even better.”

  He slid his hands beneath her, brought her close and lifted her to his chest. She slipped her legs around his waist and crossed her ankles. Their mouths met, tongues touching, lingering and stroking. She was in awe of him as he carried her to the bathroom, turned on by his size and strength. The thrill of submitting to a creature much more powerful appealed to her. She wouldn’t have to be in charge, able to surrender completely.

  Wolfe lowered her to the ground as soon as they entered the bathroom. He fisted her turtleneck at the hem and pulled it over her head. He didn’t waste time, stripping her in deft motions. He kneeled and grasped the back of her knees to remove the worn combat boots from her feet. Lustful eyes raked over her as he peered up, his focus lingering on her breasts, belly and finally the see-through material protecting her mound.

  She stood before him, covered in nothing more than the black lace panties and bra she’d purchased a month before. She’d figured if she was going to engage in heavy petting with Michael, purchasing come-hither lingerie was the least she could do. Surprisingly, the garments fit better than her less-than-heat-inducing underwear. She had better movement and support. As a result, she’d ditched the old and decided to run with the new.

  Sadly, things hadn’t gone according to plan with Michael.

  Not only had he not noticed her attempt to be sexy, he’d acted as if every woman came to bed in expensive undergarments. He’d stripped her bare and didn’t give her carefully chosen underwear a moment’s notice. She’d been too embarrassed to mention
it, telling herself it was one other thing she’d never understand.

  Her life hadn’t been—and would never be—normal.

  This time around, her lover actually took her in, looking his fill, appreciating the view. It was as if he was putting her to memory, learning her body before he touched her. The approval in his lusty perusal was evident, his green eyes shifting from light to dark. His warm hand touched her knee and drifted up. He palmed her ass through her thin panties. She found herself unnerved and aroused by the intimidating male at her feet. His lips moved but his words didn’t register, muffled by the blood drumming in her ears.

  “What did you say?”

  “Your skin’s so fucking soft, t’keeira.”

  He hooked his fingers in her panties, his callused hand making contact with her bare flesh. Portions of his ink-black hair fell over his face as he bowed his head and placed a kiss on her inner thigh. Undercurrents spread through her erogenous zones, her nipples beaded and her clit throbbing.

  She trembled in anticipation, flying high on raw need.

  At that moment, there were no vampyren, Thymeria or battles to be waged. Tomorrow would have consequences—ones that would make or break her. She and Wolfe lived separate lives and had different goals. But until the sun disappeared and the moon crested, it was just him and her, alone and eager with nothing to stop them.

  When he reached for the sides of her underwear, she captured his hands in hers. He peered up, desire and need evident in his strained features. She didn’t know much about lycae aside from the tales of old, or the things she learned from Greyson. They were a fierce and proud race, secretive and loyal to a fault. But every immortal knew one truth. Werewolves only mated once, and it was forever. They lived and breathed for those they were intended for.

  Somewhere deep inside she felt an inexplicable bond taking hold, a dangerous shifting in her heart that revealed the insecurities and fears she fought so hard to conceal. Terror at discovery had always prevented anyone from seeing inside. Until she’d met Wolfe, who knocked down her walls and barreled into her life. She couldn’t hide from this beast among men, who rested so reverently on his knees before her.