EnemyMine Read online

  Please, let me think clearly. I only have one chance at this. If he gets his hands on me…

  She shuddered at the thought, terrified of provoking his fury. He needed an outlet for his rage, craved it. In his current state there was no telling what he’d do. If he didn’t hurt her and took things in the direction she’d been fantasizing about, she’d experience the ultimate lesson of why shifters and vampires didn’t mate firsthand.

  It might very well kill her.

  Taking a deep breath, she prepared to flee, picturing the home of her coven. Her eyes flew open when Trey growled and appeared to look her straight in the eye as he said, “Don’t try to run. I can fucking smell you,” and lunged for her.

  She was here—his phantom. A figment of his imagination he’d thought had vanished, abandoning him in his darkest hour and forcing him to endure everything alone when he left New York. So many nights he longed for her touch, for the soothing sensation of her fingertips brushing over his temples before winding down to his throat. When those caresses never came he accepted he’d finally lost his mind, having jumped into the deep end without a life vest. His thoughts were always chaotic now. Perhaps he didn’t have the stability left to form a coherent figment of his mind—a make-believe woman who cared for him, calmed him and gave him something more than anger to live for—any longer. He’d actually started to believe he’d made it all up.

  Until now.

  Her scent was one he’d never forget—wildflowers, incense and a dash of something that jarred a memory. Something from his past would reveal his phantom’s identity, if only he could remember it. Throughout the months, all he’d experienced were fleeting touches and not the key element a shifter needed to bring things together. That was no longer the case. Now he had her scent, could call upon it whenever and wherever he wanted. Which meant that if she was near, he would find her. There would be no escape.

  The moment in time when he’d first scented the enigma tried to claw its way free, to break through the barrier that prevented him from remembering. Unfortunately he couldn’t dwell on that. He could see the imprint of his phantom in the grass, the plush indention of her ass and hands clearly visible. The alcohol he’d guzzled in such a short period of time made him slower than he’d have liked but he was fast enough to snare his prey. Despite his inability to see the female, his hands made contact with the fragile bones of a rib cage. As he manipulated his hold he trapped her arms at her sides.

  Another first assailed him—the sound of her voice—when she ordered, “Let me go.”

  And it hit, an instinctive tidal wave, like the first ray of sun across the morning sky bringing the world to life. In that instant something inside him changed. His wolf woke and rose to the surface of his skin, brushing fur against flesh from the inside, but there was no fury to go along with its appearance. Sexual hungers he’d never known—had never thought existed—consumed him. He wanted the woman in his arms beneath him, trapped by his body as he claimed her from behind, fucking her madly as he buried his teeth in her shoulder. He wanted to taste her blood as he came, to leave behind his absolute claim for the pack to see, smell and recognize.

  He’d found her, after all this time, when he had nothing to offer.

  My mate.

  The bundle in his arms thrashed and fought, using a strength he wouldn’t have thought possible. He cursed under his breath and attempted to wrestle the female to the ground. To his stunned amazement, he saw a flicker, as if the form of the woman trapped in his arms was starting to lose whatever it was that allowed her to shield herself from him. Then she was there, gazing up at him with the most exquisite ice-blue eyes the color of the most sought-after aquamarine. Long dark lashes framed the stunning orbs, intensifying the shade.

  Oh fuck.

  Flashes from a night months before hit like an electronic transmission, allowing him to recall everything with vivid clarity.

  Club Liminality.

  The memory he’d tried so hard to remember returned, complete with the memory of the breathtaking beauty beneath him standing across the room—a vision in black leather, knee-high boots and a fuck-with-me-and-you’ll-regret-it look on her face. He remembered her flowing, light blonde hair. The way the lush strands had wrapped around her shoulders and fallen in a thick sheet down her back. He’d had no choice but to approach her, drawn to her in a manner he hadn’t fully grasped. As he’d neared it had been as if a portion of him that had been long dormant had come to life, sparking a fire in his blood.

  But then she had done the unexpected and vanished before his eyes. There one moment and gone the next. Only one creature could do such a thing, a race that fed off the lives of others. Now that she was in his arms, what he hadn’t wanted to believe slapped him firmly across the face. His mind rebelled, a horrifying bray of fury and heartache even as his wolf growled in contentment.

  It couldn’t be. Fate couldn’t possibly be that cruel.

  “A goddamn vampire?” he snarled, caught off guard by the realization, repulsed that his cock was stiff as a baseball bat.

  Unexpectedly the color on her cheeks vanished, leaving her pale—too pale. It was as though something vital had been torn from her grasp, her shield ripped away, leaving her raw, open and exposed. Her eyes widened, full and kissable cherry-red lips parting. There was surprise, then acceptance, followed by visible hurt on her angelic face when his words registered.

  “That’s right, shifter,” she hissed, meeting his gaze with one of equal detestation. “A goddamn vampire.”

  “It can’t be.” He buried his fingers into the arms of her leather jacket, using enough strength that she inhaled sharply in pain. Aware that he was causing her harm, he lessened his grip but didn’t let go. “It’s not possible.”

  “Don’t be stupid.” Her arched brows came together as she glowered at him. “I suggest you get off me.” She stared into his eyes, looking at him with a seething hostility that seared his soul. “Don’t make me do something we’ll both regret.”

  He lowered his eyes so that his attention rested on her nose and mouth. It was a trick. It had to be. “Don’t try your mind games on me. They won’t work.”

  Her corresponding laugh was bitter. “You think I need a mind game to fuck you over? Oh shifter,” she purred. “You have no idea.”

  In a blink her expression changed, becoming seductive, eyelids lowering to reveal less of her irises. She bucked beneath him, the softness of her belly rubbing against his cock. He wanted to be strong, to deny her. Instead he groaned, worried he might come in his pants like an eager male with his first woman. She might be strong and thin but she was also soft in all the right places.

  She rolled her pelvis, increasing the contact with his dick, and opened her mouth. Tiny fangs—far smaller than his in wolf form—were visible. The visual should have sickened him but instead his balls went taut and his leathers became slippery when a trickle of pre-cum escaped the head of his cock.

  “See what I mean?” She stopped moving, the enticing allure of her raspy voice gone, replaced with a haughty tone he didn’t care for. “Now, I suggest you get off me. Let’s part ways and forget tonight ever happened.”

  “Forget?” He hated repeating the words, cursing the female in his arms for even considering them. “You think I can forget this?”

  “Why not? I certainly will.” He couldn’t read her, was unable to determine if she meant what she said or if she was bluffing. “Don’t worry,” she continued, this time with an edge of panic, her words shaky. “After tonight, you’ll never see me again. You have my word.”

  The thought of her leaving tore an open wound in his chest. He’d survived without her and nearly managed to forget her existence during his time away from New York. During that time he’d lost a part of himself he’d never hoped to get back. The grip he had on his humanity was quickly slipping from his fingers like fine grains of sand.

  No more.

  “Is that so?” he murmured and looked at her mouth, knowing he was et
ernally damned. She might be a blood drinker—a fucking leech—but damn if he gave a shit. “You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep, darlin’. You’re going to come back to me again and again, and we both know it.”

  Her beautiful eyes changed color, going from ice-blue to an almost bluish-white when he lowered his head and kissed her hard. A few seconds passed and she relaxed, opening her lips, granting him entry. He wasn’t sure what he expected—perhaps the metallic burst of blood on his tongue since she drank from others to survive, or maybe some strange flavor that came from her being vampire—but it certainly wasn’t the sweetness he experienced when he slid his tongue past her lips, exploring the warm cavern of her mouth.

  The tentative touch of her tongue against his nearly did him in. He released her arms, running his fingers down her torso, skimming his fingers over her ample breasts. More softness, the round mounds a perfect fit for his hands. He created circles with his tongue, a teasing game she struggled to follow while he squeezed and manipulated the nipples that hardened under his thumbs. It wasn’t until he felt a diminutive sting that he realized she’d slid her arms under his jacket and was digging her tiny claws into his shoulders.

  He ripped his lips from hers, determined to know one thing before they started. “Your name. Tell me your name.”

  “Sadie,” she responded without pause, her breathing shallow, her face flushed once more.

  Sadie. It suited the sultry minx. Unique, lovely—her.

  Lifting his head, he glanced at Diskant’s house. It took a few seconds to focus, his vision shoddy thanks to his friend Mr. Daniels.

  Ain’t that some shit? Fuckedy, fuck, fuck.

  He couldn’t take this female inside to a guest bedroom. The pack already thought he was mad, talking about his instability behind his back when they thought he wasn’t listening. Bringing a vampire into their midst would be like hammering a nail into his coffin. He’d wouldn’t just be shunned, he’d be cast from the pack entirely. They’d send him off with a sincere fuck you and never come back.

  Take her somewhere else, dumbass. Somewhere you won’t be seen.

  “I might not be able to claim her in front of the pack,” he mumbled to himself, unaware he was talking aloud, “but I sure as hell can fuck her in the privacy of my own goddamn home.”

  He went to his knees, starting to wrap his arms around her back and legs, when a blow sent him back several yards. He landed on his ass, disoriented and confused, staring up at the sky. A form appeared, casting a shadow over him. Long blonde strands whipped around Sadie’s face—her very pissed-off face.

  “I knew you wouldn’t be any better,” she said, sounding hollow, her words carrying on the windy winter air. “Goddess help you, Trey Veznor. I’d hoped…I thought…” She shook her head, her plush lower lip trembling. “In the end, you will stand alone. When it’s time to face your demons, I hope you’re strong enough to survive.”

  He reached out for her, attempting to grab hold of her jacket, but it was too late. The only thing that greeted him was a handful of nothing. Staring at the space she once inhabited, he wondered if she was just a dream, something he’d created to make it out of bed each morning. Maybe he was sliding into insanity. Perhaps he’d finally lost his mind. He ran his tongue along his lips, finding one final taste of the woman as he did. Then he knew she wasn’t a figment of his imagination.

  Sadie.

  The wolf inside of him threatened to break free, clawing at his insides, heartbroken by what he’d just done. It snarled at him, furious at his behavior. If it were possible, he was certain his bestial half would have ripped his human form a new asshole. She was gone, just like before. There one second, gone the next. All because he was drunk, reckless and wanted to maintain his pride.

  Pride, he thought angrily. What pride?

  Any dignity he’d had was long gone. He was a lone wolf now. On the outside. An anomaly among his kind. But he didn’t have to be. Something—be it fate, luck or serendipity—had brought his female to him, and he’d treated her no better than a common one-night stand.

  “After tonight, you’ll never see me again,” she had said. “You have my word.”

  Her warning created an enduring firebrand in his mind, reminding him of what it felt like to truly fear something, to know that some things weren’t in his power to control. As he rose to his feet and headed toward the house, he knew it was time to get his shit straight. The last couple of months he’d basked in loss and had allowed it to consume him.

  Those days were over.

  “Sadie, darlin’, I warned you,” he whispered, striding toward his future with a newfound purpose and a bounce in his step. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

  Chapter Five

  If living with insane people had taught Mary anything, it was that a person carefully planned their escape. It wasn’t as simple as packing a bag and hitting the road. Every single decision had consequences, and some of them were more dangerous than others. More importantly, it was essential that the person running for her life didn’t hesitate. Once done, an action couldn’t be undone.

  There were no second chances.

  Minutes after Emory had left, she’d started thinking about what he’d told her. And every time she came up with a reason they could be together, she’d find another one to discredit the notion. He might think she was his mate but he had to be wrong. They were no longer living a bright and shiny lie while discussing their aspirations over coffee. She wasn’t a wide-eyed girl with hopes and dreams. Stark clarity was the only thing she had left keeping her feet planted firmly on the ground.

  Shepherds had destroyed so many of his kind—had nearly destroyed him—and wouldn’t stop as long as they continued breeding more Shepherds. Their lifestyle was a disgustingly macabre form of tradition passed down from one generation to the next. Because of that she’d never be free. She would always be hunted or in danger. If she stayed, it would only bring Emory misery.

  After she’d climbed from the bed and tiptoed around, she formulated a plan. The bedroom’s bathroom had an enormous clawed tub. Running water would drown out any noises she made when she scavenged through the dresser and closet. She wasn’t sure where she was going but she knew it would be cold. Everywhere was cold in November. Due to that she’d need to find clothing to protect her from the weather until she could get to a safe hotel. Then she could take the time to sort things out.

  She froze, repeating her thoughts, and stifled a groan.

  A hotel. Damn!

  Rotating in a circle, she searched for her bag, saying a silent prayer. Emory had mentioned the money and map so her duffel had to be somewhere. She inspected the closet, the dresser, the floor—and stopped on the large armoire across from the bed. Even though she knew her bag wouldn’t be there, she checked anyway, hoping that for once she was wrong. A large flat-screen television was inside, along with a remote. Other than that the shelves were empty. Releasing a steady sigh, she tried to think of a new plan, having a good idea of where the bag was.

  “The other bedroom,” she muttered.

  Damn, damn, damn!

  Footsteps sounded outside the bedroom door and Mary quickly closed the cabinet and rushed for the bathroom. She didn’t make it in time, interrupted halfway to her destination, caught in the act by the very owner of the home she was attempting to escape.

  “Uh…” Mary tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t make her look guilty.

  Ava waved a hand and closed the door. “Don’t even. You could make up the best lie in the world and I’d know.” She lifted her hand and tapped her temple. “I can hear what you’re thinking, remember?”

  Talk about an invasion of privacy. Fear of discovery faded, replaced by annoyance. Mary walked toward Ava and stopped a foot or so away from the small woman. She stood at least five or six inches over her—possibly more.

  “Don’t you think that’s a little rude?” she asked, placing her hands on her hips.

  “Definitely,
” Ava said, unperturbed, folding her arms across her chest. “And if Emory hadn’t interrupted Diskant and me to make sure you were okay when he heard you shuffling around in here, I wouldn’t have considered it.”

  Mary looked at Ava—really looked at her. Her short blonde and pink hair was a mess, the strands sticking out in multiple directions. Her jeans were zipped but not buttoned and her sweater was inside out. Since Ava had a fair complexion, Mary could see whisker burn around her swollen lips and the vivid red love bite on her neck.

  Oh God.

  Emory had interrupted Ava and Diskant while they were having sex.

  She’d never been so embarrassed, not even when her mother had decided it was time to talk about the birds and the bees when she turned fourteen. Mary wished the ground would open up and swallow her.

  Ava’s countenance changed from frustrated to understanding. “Don’t worry about it. Diskant is the Alpha and Omega of New York. It’s not the first or the last time that we’ve been interrupted. In fact…” Ava grinned and snickered. “It’s nice being the one to put a stop to the action for a change. He needs a taste of what it’s like to be left hanging. If you know what I mean.”

  Mortification swept through her, making Mary wish she could shrivel up and die. She and Ava were not going to discuss or share their sexcapades. During college a few girls in her classes would brag about their sex lives without a shred of modesty or decency. She’d always listened in, awed and slightly repulsed that they took something that was supposed to be intimate between two people and dumbed it down for the masses.

  “Oh girl.” Ava’s smile remained intact but she did give Mary a knowing look that made her uncomfortable. “You’re going to have to get over that. Shyness has no meaning to shifters. You’re about to be surrounded by people who think intimacy is something that should be proudly open for display.”