“You mean it’s not only during the full moon?” She asked - and suddenly felt like a complete imbecile.
Here, she had been thinking about all kinds of really bad Lon Chaney Jr. movies, where the wolf man fought against the pull of the full moon. Holy Hell, she had a lot to learn about this new supernatural world to which she was now painfully aware of – and yet, kind of belonged to. Although- she had no idea at all what being part fey entailed. For God’s sake – she didn’t even know the first thing about werewolves. Or that any of these things had actually existed. Cripes! She was a complete fish out of water here – flopping around, just trying to breathe.
Desmond shook his head with a laugh and wrapped his arm around her waist as they entered the woods. “They can change when they choose, or if their rage takes over. If they, or someone they love feel threatened the shift is no longer in their control. That is why it is so important that they have a pack around them. They need to learn how to control their anger, or else it can have dire consequences.”
Abby thought about what Lucas had told her, about his being “royally pissed off” when he had discovered what he was. Hadn’t he had anyone to help him through it? He had said that Desmond had saved his life. No, she silently corrected herself with a slight wrenching of her gut – he had said - that man of yours. She immediately tossed the thought aside. “Didn’t Luke have a pack?” she asked and swore she felt him tense ever so slightly.
He was silent for a moment, his arm tightening a bit. “No,” he stated simply, a hint of anger in his tone. “He lived with a grandmother who believed in the - ‘if you don’t speak of it, it isn’t real approach, and never bothered to explain his heritage to him. She refused to embrace her ancestry, and made him suffer for her ignorance. She basically kept him under lock and key his entire life – ignorant of the world to which he belonged.”
“But she had to know what would happen when he turned sixteen!” she cried, her eyes wide. Abby’s heart went out to Lucas - to imagine a boy so young to suddenly have his whole world blown apart. No wonder he had been angry. He had every right to be furious. He was flying blind in a world that was completely unknown to him – and frightening.
Desmond’s jealousy reared its ugly head as soon as Abby mentioned Lucas. Why? He didn’t know. He knew that Lucas was aware of his protectiveness of Abby, and that he would never overstep the boundaries off their friendship - yet there was that infernal heat that ran through his body when he heard the compassion and caring in her voice when she spoke of him. He was much more comfortable with her being, as she put it – ‘weirded’ out by him – and he hated himself for it. He had no right to feel the way he was feeling, but once he had smelled the scent of wolf on her skin – there was no way he could keep his instinct to protect her at bay.
His was the only scent he wanted on her skin. And just why in the hell had his scent been on her in the first place – he thought sourly. She had said that they had only eaten together. The scent was much stronger than that, and he knew that Lucas had to have touched her – and that thought infuriated him. The thought of any man touching her infuriated him.
This damned possessiveness of his made him far from comfortable with her new friendship with the cur. Just what in the hell had they talked about when they had eaten together, he silently wondered - then berated himself for even letting it bother him. He held no claim to the beautiful fey and he needed to remember that – no matter how much his body disagreed.
“She really didn’t care,” he said - attempting to push his jealousy aside. She was here with him and he intended to enjoy every moment of it. “She was a bitter, nasty old crone who punished her grandson for the sins she felt his mother had committed by falling in love and giving birth to him. ”
“You knew her?” Abby gasped, and Desmond nodded.
Walking over to a large rock near a stream, he sat down and pulled her into his arms, holding her close – the vanilla-lavender scent of her teasing his senses. “She lived in the cottage that Lucas and his pack now occupy at the edge of the property.” He responded, his lips gently nibbling her ear. “She was here when I originally purchased the estate and I didn’t have the heart to throw her or her young daughter out - and since I wasn’t planning on living here at that time I assumed they would be no trouble. Marcus could have cared less. He was rarely ever home at night and during the day…well, he slept and didn’t bother with anyone, I suppose.” His lips traveled from her ear, then down her throat slowly as he spoke, and Abby shivered - his touch igniting that ever present flame within her. “I have watched Lucas since I came back to the manor – trying to help when I could. I gave the house and the land to Luke once the old witch finally died so he and his pack would have a place to call their own.”
She turned her face to him, her lips parted in silent awe. No wonder why these people worshipped the man – he was incredible.
She stared into his eyes, her own shining in admiration, and want …and need -waiting for his lips to take hers -and he did not disappoint her.
His mouth slanted across hers urgently as he pulled her closer, pressing her breasts firmly against his steely chest. “Enough about the mongrels,” he growled, his voice low and seductive and Abby found herself forgetting all about them. Being in Desmond’s arms with his lips on hers - as the sound of the running water filled her head caused a peace to envelope her that she found herself unable or unwilling to ignore. She kissed him back in earnest, the heat between the two of them building to dangerous proportions almost instantly. It was as if they had gone months without the other’s touch - instead of less than an hour.
Desmond’s hands traveled up under her sweater and he cupped her breasts firmly – his fingers kneading her sensitive nipples and she cried out – pressing herself more securely into his grip.
Much too soon he leaned back and broke their embrace with a tortured groan. “I guess I had better get control of myself if I don’t plan on taking you right here and now on this extremely hard and uncomfortable rock,” he said thickly, his eyes dark with desire. “I wouldn’t want to bruise that delectable little backside of yours.”
Abby blushed, her lips turning up in a smile that caused another groan to escape his lips. He kissed her again, lightly and chastely. “And that lovely color that comes to your cheeks does not help in the least, my pet.” He stood and pulled her to her feet. “Let’s finish our walk so that I may take you back to the house and get you into a nice soft bed and have my way with you.” He said, that devilish glint in his eyes. “I still want to test out your theory.”
True to his word, a few hours later, they lay in his large bed, wrapped tightly in each other’s arms. Desmond lay there and listened to the soft, even sound of her breathing as she slept, his brows furrowing with concern. He knew something was bothering her, yet she couldn’t bring herself to tell him what it was.
He wanted nothing more than for her to trust him completely, and the thought of that not being the case hurt him more than he would ever have thought. Although- he silently chastised himself, there was much about himself that he was keeping from her. First and foremost the fact that he had known her father. He had struggled with that from the moment he first told her what she was – but there was that part of him that feared the look of contempt he was sure he would see in her eyes when he told her of how for nearly ninety years he had been a cold stone killer. Yes, he had killed evil beings, but there had also been innocents lost in the crossfire – something that haunted him every day of his existence. So much violence was not how he wanted her to think of him. His thoughts drifted to when he had first been turned and an involuntary shiver ran up his spine. Yes, he had shared with her the how and the why that he had been turned, but the time following - he had kept to himself.
The bloodlust had been fierce, and it had been a lot of nightmarish years before he learned to control it – then convince Marcus that you needn’t kill to feed, but in that time, he took the lives of more innocents than he cared
to recall and it was something that ate away at him.
He closed his eyes and sighed, hating the monster that he was and not wanting this woman in his arms to realize it. The last thing he wanted was for her to be frightened of him. He wanted her only to think of him as they were now, glowing with the aftermath of their lovemaking – being held safe and secure in his arms – but he knew that if she knew the truth, she would turn from him in revulsion. Hate him for the death that hung over him like a dark storm cloud. She was too pure and innocent not to be disgusted by the death that enveloped him.
Then there was the issue of her blood and her now being immortal. He stared up at the ceiling, his fangs descending at just the thought of tasting her. It was a deep, primal urge that wanted desperately to be satisfied and he fought every moment not to let it win.
From what he could find out from the legends, her blood was a powerful force to any supernatural being that consumed it – vampires included. It was said that to vampires, a half-blooded fey’s blood would be the sweetest of all blood imaginable.
He feared he would lose control and not be able to stop himself from sinking his fangs into her luscious neck and draining her dry - and even though she was now for all means and purposes immortal, it didn’t mean that she still couldn’t be killed. And draining a fey dry was a sure way to do it. There were moments when they had been making love that his fangs had made a quick and nasty appearance and it took all of the willpower that he possessed not to give in to that temptation – but luckily something had given him the strength to stop before he had succumbed. He didn’t want her to see the beast within him. The thought of those emerald eyes looking at him in fear was like a knife to his gut.
Abby shifted in her sleep, murmuring his name softly as she snuggled closer to him and threw her leg over his - and once again his entire body was aflame. Just the sound of his name on her lips was all it took to make him as hard as granite. Christ!
He pulled her closer, and closed his eyes. He needed to tell her everything, but at the moment - the feel of her lying in the circle of his arms was just too damn good to ignore. In time, he silently told himself – once he knew for certain that she was safe - even it if was from himself as well as the demons.
Abby stretched and smiled -her body still tingling from Desmond’s touch. “Hey,” she said, smiling when she found him watching her intently, his hooded blue eyes causing that immediate pang in her heart and warmth in her belly.
“Hey, yourself,” he replied softly, pressing his lips to her forehead.
“What time is it?”
“Just a little after six.”
“Holy Hell,” she breathed. “You let me sleep the entire day away!”
Desmond shrugged with a grin. How could he tell her that he never wanted to let her get up from this bed - that he wanted to hold her in his arms forever. Instead he placed a lingering kiss on her lips. “You are still healing and you need your rest.”
“Desmond, I’m fine,” she insisted, sitting up and looking down at him, her mouth set in a stubborn line. “You have to quit treating me like I’m this fragile piece of glass or something.”
“You have no idea just how fragile you actually are,” he mumbled and Abby immediately bristled – taking it that he thought she was weak.
She had been on her own for much too long for anyone to think that! At seventeen - after her mother had died, Abby had gotten a job and an apartment to keep from having to go into foster care – or worse.
She had finished high school while busting her ass to keep a roof over her head and food on the table. She had had no one and had worked damn hard to make it - and no one was going to imply any different!
She didn’t know why she was suddenly so angry - maybe because his constant concern for her just reinforced the fact that he felt an obligation to protect her, and he didn’t have the confidence that she could take care of herself – or maybe it was just because she was becoming much too dependent on the damn vampire!
She craved the feeling of being safe and protected in his arms and wanted it to last an eternity, and the fact that she knew it couldn’t just literally ticked her off and whether justified or not – she was pissed.
“Listen Vampire,” she bit out, poking her nail into his chest for emphasis. “I have done ok so far by myself. I’m tougher than you think and I don’t need a nursemaid!”
“Don’t you?” He snapped back, not exactly sure why they were even arguing.
“No, actually- I don’t. I’ve been on my own for a long time now, buster - and that is just the way I like it!” She yelled at him before getting out of the bed and storming into the bathroom – not wanting him to see the bold face lie she had just told.
She slammed the door behind her and braced herself against it, squeezing her eyes closed to stave off the rush of angry tears that were threatening to spill free. No, she thought dismally, she didn’t need a damn nursemaid - she only needed him. And because of him, the thought of being alone again, without him in her life was killing her. It was squeezing at her insides so hard that she found it hard to breathe.
She turned the water on in the sink and let her tears flow, hating herself for needing him so badly. And hating him for making her! She suddenly had no control what-so-ever over her own life. Her heart, mind and soul were being held in the hands of the gorgeous vampire to play with and discard at his first whim.
Desmond lay on the bed in utter confusion -not sure what had set her off. Now, more than ever he knew that something was indeed bothering her, and he started to get out of the bed and go to her -planning on demanding to know what was going on in that beautiful head of hers - but when he picked up the sound of her crying over the running water, he sat back down on the edge of the bed instead.
Maybe this was what she needed, he thought miserably – fighting the urge to go to her and take her into his arms with every ounce of strength that he possessed. Perhaps she needed to have this time alone to release whatever it was that she was holding in. Maybe then she could tell him.
He sat there staring at the closed door, willing himself not to burst through the entry and comfort her as he so desperately wanted. Every fiber of his being wanted to go to her.
He was lost in thought when the bathroom door opened and she walked out - wearing one of his black silk robes. She looked absolutely exquisite, and he swallowed hard - his body instantly reacting to her presence. Good God – would he ever get enough of her?
“I’m sorry,” she whispered - and in an instant, he was standing in front of her and pulling her securely into his embrace as if she were his life-line.
“There is nothing to be sorry for,” he assured her, his hands tenderly rubbing her back. She buried her face in his chest and took a deep, calming breath. God, she thought once again in wonder – his scent was amazing. How could one man always smell so damn good?
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she choked out. “You have been so gracious to me and I’m behaving like a spoiled brat throwing a tantrum.”
Desmond tilted her face up and kissed her eyelids, his lips soft and reassuring. “Abby, you have been through so much in such a short time, that I am amazed you have not broken down before this.” His eyes caught and held hers, a look of admiration in them. “Your strength and acceptance of all that has happened to you amazes and astounds me more than you could ever know.”
“I don’t know much about the strength part,” she murmured and he smiled – pulling her a little closer.
“You are stronger than you think.”
She shrugged, hoping that he believed that that was all that was wrong, and not the truth that she was falling hopelessly in love with him and terrified of the moment she knew would come when what he seemed to believe was his duty to her was over and she would have to go back to her old life. A life that she had been content with until she met him – but now seemed so lonely.
Her heart ached and she swallowed back the tears that were threatening to fall once
again. She needed to cherish whatever time she had with him, and hope that the memories would be enough. Memories that she could hold onto and treasure for the rest of her miserable life.
Before anything else could be said, the bedroom window exploded with a resounding boom as glass went flying in every direction.
In a flash of lightning speed, Desmond threw Abby to the floor, covering her with his body as shards of glass and wood rained down on them.
Above the ringing in her ears, she could faintly hear the sound of snarling and growling coming from outside and realized that the wolves had arrived.
Desmond stood - his eyes quickly, but thoroughly surveying her body for any injuries, and grabbed a nearby pair of discarded trousers.
“Stay down,” he growled, his fangs descended and his eyes the color of liquid silver.
She had never seen him in full vampire mode before, and the sight was disturbing, to say the least – but in a fascinating, primal way that had her pulse racing and her heart bouncing around in her chest.
Why she wasn’t absolutely terrified of this Desmond, she couldn’t say, but she wasn’t – she was breathless and completely turned on! My God, she thought in embarrassment, here they were in the middle of an explosion and all she could think about was how completely sexy he was and how she wanted him to claim her. Holy Hell – she thought miserably, her face burning – what was wrong with her? Claim her? What the hell did that even mean? She shook her head and watched him closely - utterly fascinated.
He moved with the grace of a panther around the room in the semi-darkness and she realized with a start that the bedside lamp had been knocked over and smashed as well. He threw on the pants he had grabbed and held his hand out to her. “Come on,” he whispered urgently, pulling her easily to her feet.
“Des?” Marcus called from the stairs.