Soft As Moonlight

  Never had returning home been so unwelcome. 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 the Lycae bound and determined to possess her—in all sorts of wonderfully wicked ways.

  Damn it, she cursed silently, aware that she wasn’t immune to him as she should be.

  There was no fathomable way to describe what she was experiencing, inexplicable desire overtaking sound judgment. Wolfe’s throaty chuckle informed her he picked up on the thought, and she wanted to throttle him. He seemed to derive intense pleasure from being as close to her—emotionally 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 each of hers as they shuffled. She considered asking him to let go, but got her answer when unrelenting arms brought her closer.

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

  “Never, t’keeira.”

  Afraid to know but too curious not to, she asked, “What does that word mean, anyway? Is it Lycae for mate?”

  He lowered his head and she felt his face in the back of her hair, his deep inhale audible. He answered on the exhale. “Close. It means, most beloved one.”

  The urge to melt against him was stronger, a deep, inner longing and want becoming impossible to suppress. 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 declarations he appeared to have no shame professing.

  “This is insane,” she muttered quietly and shook her head, straining to reach the flashing answering machine. They didn’t even know one another. Feelings that led to a binding—and in this case absolute—commitment came from developing a strong connection with someone. Not an all-consuming lust.

  The vintage machine clicked and rewound in a wretchedly high-pitched squeal. When it came to a stop, the messages started. The first two were prospective clients, each wishing to procure services to locate missing family members. The third was a click and disconnect.

  When the fourth message started and she heard Michael’s deep baritone, she tried to press Erase.

  Wolfe’s warm fingers wound around her wrist and encased her hand, restricting contact with the projected target. She listened, mortified, as Michael apologized profusely for their failed date weeks before and implored 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, and what ultimately had 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 out on.

  How she regretted that decision now.

  The message was too intimate, too damned personal. When he mentioned his behavior, alluding to the bite 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 adept ears, and her own humiliation, she would have.

  The message ended and the tape stopped, leaving them standing in a very odd and uncomfortable silence. The Lycae male that believed her to be his other half just listened as another man presented a very vivid picture of an envisioned future together. One she never would have shared otherwise.

  “You’re involved with someone?”

  The question was falsely impersonal—posed as if Wolfe were asking about the weather—and they both knew it. So many answers came to mind, but her tongue felt heavy, as did her embarrassment. She chose to shake her head in the negative, giving her voice a brief 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 he sought. Then, it struck her that he probably didn’t want to in case he didn’t like what he found. Michael’s profession of love and adoration was more than adequate.

  “It’s over,” she whispered.

  The words had no sooner escaped her lips before she was turned, her back pressed into the counter and breasts crushed against Wolfe’s chest. In a deft motion, her glasses were gone and his magnificent face was revealed. 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 utterly gentle.

  “Kiss me.”

  Resisting the pull of those eyes and the allure of his voice was next to impossible. But she knew that the moment she submitted, it was over. One kiss was all he needed to claim her. The rest would follow naturally. The attraction between them was undeniable.

  His face was so close that, when she talked, his heated breath marked her lips. “We need to talk first. We hardly know one another.”

  Turning his head from side to side, he brushed 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 by exchanging phone numbers and meeting for casual sexual encounters. Nothing else matters, only you and me. The rest is irrelevant.”

  “I don’t even know why you were meeting with the vampyren,” she groaned. Her eyes slid shut when his hands released her face and trailed down her arms, conscious of each nerve ending his fingers skimmed. “If Taylor Martinson is a friend of yours, it’s going to be one hell of a problem.”

  “Look at me, Arden.”

  She lifted her lids and met his shifting, multihued irises. The green was darker along the edge, his pupil large.

  “I am not a friend to any of the vampyren, nor to any of the Thymeria. I met with Taylor as a favor to Luke, nothing more. When Adam stepped down, it created a weak spot in the pack. Dealing with the vampyren was a necessary precaution to help out a member of the family, as well as one hell of a friend.”

  Wounding betrayal resurfaced. She was so close to her goal. Her vow nearly fulfilled. She murmured bitterly, “Then why did you stop me? Why didn’t you just back off and let me finish what I started?”

  Twin pools of forest green flickered back and forth, as if trying to soothe her soul. The hands at her wrists traveled up, until he held her face captive once more.

  “I didn’t know—about you, about us. I reacted impulsively before someone got hurt.”

  “I won’t stop hunting them,” she informed him quietly, lifting her hands and bringing them across his forearm. His skin felt incredible, so warm and solid, the dark silken hair along the surface tickling the heel of her palms. She felt him quiver, and his hips pressed snugly against her. His mouth curved and her knees went watery when she got a full on smile.

  “What are you grinning at?” she asked breathlessly.

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

  Then, those heavenly lips covered hers in a kiss as soft as moonlight, and the world disappeared.

  He lifted her by the waist and placed her on the counter, lips never breaking contact. The leather of her pants snagged and caught against the plastic counter, causing her panties to rub her sensitized flesh mercilessly. Wolfe pressed his hips between her outspread legs, grasped her waist with abrasive fingers, and rotated his pelvis. His tongue slid past her lips, taunting and teasing. The masculine scent of him was wondrous, his taste delicious. Every portion of her body came to life under the persuasion of his hands, lips, and fingers.

  Nudging her chin aside with his nose, his lips traveled along her cheek and jaw, following the line of her throat. She whimpered and grasped his arms, allowing her head to hang limply. His tongue lapped against her skin, increasing the fire roaring in her veins, stoking an agonizingly empty ache in
the pit of her belly.

  “So responsive,” he growled hoarsely, thrusting his hand against her core and palming her sex possessively. “I can’t wait to see if you taste as good as you smell.”

  The contact forced a moan of want from her throat. She remembered how good he tasted—his blood thick, rich, and addictive. Her canines extended at the thought, pulsating painfully. She would sink her teeth into his throat, drinking him down 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, inhaling deeply. She was filthy, covered in grime and earth. 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.”

  He laughed; the spine-tingling sound throaty and deep. “The shower is even better.”

  He slid his hands beneath her, bringing her close as he lifted her to his chest and she slipped her legs around his waist. Their mouths met, tongues touching, lingering, and stroking. She felt the steady movements as he carried her to the bathroom, and reveled in his sheer size and strength. The thrill of submitting to a creature much stronger and more deadly appealed to her, not for the damage he was capable of inflicting, but for the gentleness he continued to display.

  When they entered the stark white bathroom, Wolfe let her go for the first time since he’d broken in Trevor’s door, grasping her turtleneck at the fitted hem and pulling it over her head. He didn’t waste time, stripping her in deft motions, kneeling and grasping the back of her knees to remove the worn combat boots after he’d worked the laces loose. He tossed the leather and cotton aside, gazing up.

  Wolfe’s eyes raked over her, lingering on her breasts, belly, and the see-through material shrouding her sex. She stood quietly, covered in nothing more than the black lace panties and bra she’d purchased a month before when she’d made the decision to engage in heavy petting with Michael. Only this time, her lover took her in prior to the proceedings, looking his fill and appreciating how the bra lifted her breasts and accentuated the slimness of her waist.

  It was as if he was putting her to memory, learning her body before he touched her. The approval in his warm perusal was evident, his green eyes shifting from light to dark. His warm hand touched her knee, sliding around and drifting up. He palmed her ass through the thin material, fingers combing into the skin.

  His lips moved, but the words didn’t register, muffled by the blood rushing through her body and pounding in her ears.

  “What did you say?” she found herself saying, unnerved and aroused by this intimidating male kneeling at her feet.

  “Your skin’s so damned soft,” he repeated, bringing his slightly callused fingers down to slide them beneath the lace and cup her bare bottom. Up and down he moved those hands, tickling the skin as he caressed her thighs and returned to palm her ass.

  Portions of his ink black hair fell forward as he bowed his head, pressing his mouth against her thigh. Her flesh shivered, undercurrents beneath the skin prickling and traveling to the erogenous zones of her body. The bristles along his chin and jaw scraped roughly, and she trembled in anticipation.

  At that moment, there were no vampyren, Thymeria, or battles to be stifled or waged. Tomorrow would have consequences, ones that would make or break them. They lived separate lives, had different goals. But until the sun sank 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 stilled his hands with the lightest touch of her own. He peered up at her, a fierce desire and need evident by 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 singular truth. Werewolves only mated once, and it was forever. They lived and breathed for those they were intended for.

  Somewhere deep inside her soul she felt an inexplicable bond taking hold, a dangerous shifting in her heart that revealed the many insecurities and fears she fought so hard to conceal—but not from him, not from this beast among men resting so reverently on his knees before her.

  His hands remained on her hips, but they didn’t squeeze or move. He watched her closely, frowning when he asked, “What’s wrong, t’keeira?”

  His concern touched her in ways his physicality never could. Hunger rose in her stomach, but it wasn’t for blood. The promise of tasting another portion of him overrode any craving for the liquid rapture pulsing through his veins.

  For once, she would experience the forbidden.

  She urged him to his feet and peered up when he stood tall above her, a curious expression on his face. Then, she rose on tiptoe and pressed her mouth against his parted lips as she slid her fingers to the top button at his throat.

  His breath caught, and his massive body went tight when she slid the button free to reveal a tanned thatch of skin. She whispered softly against his lips, “My turn.”

  Chapter Eight

  Each pass of her fingers against the expensive cotton and his skin was torture, too little, yet just enough. Up until now, Wolfe hadn’t known if Arden would accept him. Even with the attraction that existed between them, even as his body produced the pheromones that enticed her to react and respond to him without hesitation.

  My female. My mate.

  A peace was derived from the knowledge, a comfort he didn’t know he needed. She would care for him and he would protect her. It was as it should be.

  Good, right—fated.

  “You’re skin’s as warm as the sun,” she whispered softly, each delicate syllable pounding in his ears.

  It must be the Lycae in him.

  Wolfe tried to stop exploring inside her head, knowing she resented the invasion of privacy, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. Random portions still slipped past, revealing her intense yearnings and secret desires. She was as excited as she was anxious, fearful of harming him in some way.

  “For you, t’keeira,” he grated between clenched teeth, forcing his body to remain immobile as the last button came free and she slid the material away from his chest. She didn’t touch his bare torso, instead lifting one hand at a time and undoing the buttons at the wrist.

  Her breasts strained against the bra containing them when she pressed against him and removed the shirt, allowing it to drift to the floor. Then, she moved away, allowing plenty of room for those delicate hands and gentle fingers to stroke and pet.

  “You’re solid muscle,” she murmured, pressing her palms flat against his chest, her fingers trembling slightly. “I’ve never seen anything like you before.”

  He inhaled her unique scent into his lungs and savored the taste that lingered. The scent of her arousal was potent, without any traces of fear.

  “You live in the city with the largest population of Lycae in the southern United States,” he teased, lifting a hand to remove a smudge of dirt beneath her eye. “I’m sure you’ve seen others exactly like me.”

  She shook her head and tendrils of hair slipped past her shoulders, drifting along his forearm. Her mouth came to his chest and, tilting her head from side to side, she nuzzled the skin above his heart. After several passes, her tongue flicked out and bathed his flesh in sultry laps. He felt the sharp edge of her incisors when she trailed them against his skin, never breaking the surface.

  The caress of her fingers became bolder, the pads of her fingers drifting lower. Her touch stilled at the dark hair just below his belly button, fingers swirling in lazy circles.

  “I’ve seen sex demons, master Chimera, and Alpha Lycae. But I’ve never seen your equal.” Her admission was barely audible, but he heard her loud and clear, his body going rigid and cock rising to full mast.

  He started to repay the compliment in kind when she grasped his belt at
the buckle and made quick work of the leather and metal. She placed her hands behind the rim of his slacks, twisting ever so slightly until the button came free and the zipper slid down with ease.

  She went to her knees, bowing before him, and easing the boxers and slacks down his thighs until cool air hit the portion of him that wanted her attention most. His throbbing cock sprang out, fully engorged and erect, and Arden’s eyes went wide at the sight, breathtaking orbs of blue twilight flickering in disbelief across the width and length.

  She licked her bottom lip, which created an unbridled surge of lust and need that crackled throughout his entire body. He wanted to bend her over the counter and lick her honeyed sex until she came, screaming his name. Then, he wanted to bend her over that same counter and bury himself so deeply inside her body that she would never be able to remove him completely.