Bronwyn felt her face warm, partly from discomfort at intruding and partly from pleasure.
There was no getting around the fact that Luke Gray Wolf was handsome and he had a lady killer smile besides. Just being the recipient of it was enough to make her feel weak all over.
Of course, she was as certain as she could be that any female in his vicinity was going to be the lucky recipient of his smiles and that addressing females as ‘darlin’ was nothing more than a habit—regardless of how thrilling it was to be called darling by a man like him.
She smiled wryly in return, trying hard to ignore the fact that he was half-naked, which seemed to be his preference. He rarely wore more than a pair of jeans—no shirt, no shoes—and, as often as not, his jeans weren’t even fastened and gave her a fascinating view of his lower belly. “I still feel like I was in a cement mixer, but definitely better than I did yesterday.”
Luke nudged his chin at her in summons. “Come here. I can fix that.”
She didn’t move from the doorway. “I’m fine, really. I just need to walk the soreness off.”
Luke glanced at the man next to him. He got up abruptly, nodded pleasantly to her and left. His departure caused a general exodus and in a few moments Bronwyn found herself completely alone with Luke. He patted the couch beside him. “Come on.
I won’t bite—promise!”
Bronwyn couldn’t help but chuckle at his quip even though it also sent a little shiver through her. She still wasn’t certain of what he had in mind or if it was anything she would be comfortable with, but she crossed the room and sat down beside him. He promptly caught her shoulders and urged her to turn so that her back was to him. “Tell me if it’s too hard.”
Bronwyn slid a look at him, lifting her brows, and he chuckled.
“My hands, darlin’. I guarantee
that
’s too hard—or hard enough—whichever way you want to look at it. I could drive nails with it.”
Bronwyn sent him a horrified look, but she had to struggle to keep from laughing.
“You think that’s funny?” he muttered, amusement threading his voice. “Well I can tell you right now I don’t find it too fucking amusin’.”
She hissed in pain as he started massaging her back and he eased his touch immediately.
“I guess hissing will do for directions. How’s that?”
Bronwyn grunted. “Better.”
“You aren’t just tryin’ to be polite?”
“Maybe not quite that hard.”
He leaned down until his lips were near her ear. “It won’t do you no good, darlin’
if it ain’t hard.”
His breath against her ear sent another shiver through her and raised a tribe of
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goosebumps along her neck and shoulder, but she found herself struggling not to encourage him by laughing.
He’d aroused her, though—that quickly and easily—his suggestive, ribald teasing, his touch, the heat of his breath against her ear, the scent of him. Her breasts tightened, her nipples standing erect, and her kegels began to clap. She squirmed, hoping he wouldn’t notice.
“You’re tense,” he murmured, his voice husky. “Relax, baby. I won’t hurt you.”
Bronwyn cleared her throat with an effort. “I’m not sure I can,” she said a little breathlessly.
“Why?”
She swallowed with an effort. “I think you know why.”
He said nothing for several moments, just continued to work the sore muscles along her back until they felt warm, relaxed, and far less sore than they had before. “Lie down and let me do your feet and legs.”
Bronwyn didn’t even bother trying to offer a protest. She leaned forward and stretched out her legs as Luke got onto his knees beside the couch. He started with her feet. She would never have imagined such a thing could feel so good—or so erotic. She was half-unconscious by the time he’d worked his way up her calves but not so lethargic that she didn’t tense with anticipation when he moved to her thighs.
Warmth flooded her feminine passage when he began working the magic of his hands along her thighs and her kegels went crazy. By the time he’d reached her upper thighs she wanted him to slide his hand along her cleft so badly her throat was dry with want. She thought for a moment he would, but he moved his hands to her buttocks and massaged them and then worked his way up her back again to her neck and shoulders.
She was quivering with need by the time he’d worked his way down again. He hesitated at her buttocks and when he settled his hands on her thighs, he slipped one upward into her heated cleft. She could feel his hand even through the thick fabric of her jeans. It teased her mercilessly, until she was certain even her jeans were wet with the need that had begun to pulse through her.
“Turn over.”
Swallowing a little convulsively, she complied, meeting his gaze with an effort.
“If you want to say no, baby, now’s the time.”
Bronwyn studied his taut face. “Yes.”
Some of the tension seemed to go out of him. He scooped her up and carried her back into the room she’d occupied since they’d arrived at his place two days earlier and climbed into the bed with her. For a handful of moments, he merely lay beside her, his gaze burning her with its intensity. He lifted a hand finally, speared his fingers into the hair at the base of her skull and dragged her close, meeting her halfway and settling his mouth hungrily over hers.
Sensation exploded through her the moment she parted her lips for him and he thrust his tongue inside. She sought and found his shoulders, gripping them to balance herself, to ground herself before she floated away on the heated tide of pleasure inflating her. He tasted … heavenly, and that wasn’t even the best part. His tongue dueled with hers so cunningly, she almost felt like she was having sex with him, could almost feel his thick member gliding into her nether mouth as his tongue glided into her mouth.
He ripped half the buttons off her shirt trying to get her out of it, but she couldn’t
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find the will to care, certainly not after his hands settled over her tender breasts.
Breaking from her lips, he rooted at her breasts with his face until she was nearly mindless with anticipation and finally covered one peak with his mouth and caught the other between his fingers, pinching lightly even as he suckled her. Twin surges of fire went through her. Her back bowed of its own accord.
She grabbed two fistfuls of his hair, clinging to him desperately. “Now, Luke!
Now!” she gasped frantically.
He left her breasts to cover her mouth again, but she felt him tugging at the closure of her jeans. Instead of pulling them off once he’d parted the fly, however, he slid his hand over her belly and cupped her sex, pushing a thick digit inside of her.
Her body quaked threateningly. She groaned, digging her fingers into his shoulders and arching her hips, riding his finger for a moment before he withdrew it.
“Baby, you’re so wet!” he growled.
“I’m dying here!” she gasped testily, pulling at him a little frantically.
“Easy, baby.”
She felt like weeping when he moved to her breasts and began to tug and pluck at her sensitive nipples again. She was so close! If he kept that up she was going to come and wanted
him
there when she did, damn it!
He finally seemed to grasp her desperation. Levering himself upward, he caught her jeans and tugged at her jeans and panties until he’d dragged them from her. She reached for him, throwing her legs around his hips the moment he turned back to her and he fell over her, grinding his erection against her mound.
He was still wearing his damned jeans!
What
was he thinking!
He reached between them after a moment, struggling with the zipper while he sucked on her throat, neck, and ears, sending her into frantic, mindless spasms. She grunted when he finally unveiled his cock and rammed her with it, trying to tighten her legs around him enough to engulf it while he shoved and grunted to insert it.
Sweat popped from his pores, making his skin slick. Their skin slid when it was least convenient and then clung as if they’d been glued together when sliding would’ve helped the situation, but determination on both sides paid off. He drove in to her with a last, desperate lunge that nearly shoved her womb into her stomach and moved her up the bed nearly a foot.
She gasped at the twinge of pain and then shuddered as he withdrew and repositioned himself. He caught her wrists, prying the talons she’d dug into him loose from his back and manacling them to the bed on either side of her head. Before she could complain, however, he set a pace that completely distracted her, brought all of her focus to the one point of contact between them that was her pleasure center. She had to clench her teeth to keep from biting her tongue at the jarring pace he set, but it drove her upwards toward culmination so swiftly that she saw stars when her body exploded in ultimate release.
Her entire being shifted focus to the rapturous waves that followed each convulsion so that she wasn’t even aware that he’d come until he settled heavily against her, huffing in her ear and sending shivers all over her.
“Gods, baby!” Luke muttered gustily. “I came so hard I think I damned near had a heart attack.”
Bronwyn’s lips curled dreamily, but she couldn’t pry her eyes open. “Me too,”
56
she murmured a little drunkenly.
He chuckled huskily and finally rolled off of her. Bronwyn lay basking in the afterglow, allowing her thoughts to drift as her body slowly cooled.
“Well, that took the edge off,” Luke said after few minutes had passed, rolling toward her again and nuzzling his face against her neck.
His warm breath sent a shiver through her. His comment aroused a mixture of irritation and amusement. “Speak for yourself. I’m done.”
“You’re breakin’ my heart, baby. I was just warmin’ up.”
Bronwyn managed to crack one eye open enough to peer at him. “You aren’t serious?”
He studied her for a long moment and finally sighed gustily. “Guess not.”
Dragging her closer, he coiled one leg across her hips and one arm around her waist, dropping his head to the pillow next to hers.
Surprise flickered through Bronwyn, but she decided it actually felt really nice to be cuddled after sex. Shifting until she was comfortable, she released a sigh of contentment and allowed herself to drift off.
* * * *
Constantine stared down at Marco’s body in fury. “Get up,” he commanded. Marco opened his eyes and stared up at his master without recognition for a moment and finally struggled to get up as commanded.
“You’re lucky I happened to think of the morgue before they got around to finishing the job the Lycans started,” Constantine said testily. “Well, actually it was Stephen who thought of it, but that’s of no consequence now. Gather up your things and let’s go before anyone comes back.”
Marco looked around a little dazedly and finally picked up his arm and one ear.
There didn’t seem much point in worrying with the chunk of flesh from his upper thigh but, with an inward shrug, he picked that up, too.
Constantine cloaked them as they left the morgue and made their way down the corridor to the exit, passing the coroner along the way.
“Shit! The place will be crawling with cops any time now,” he muttered, striding more quickly toward the exit.
Marco shuffled a little faster, as well, and they managed to reach the exit before all hell broke loose when the coroner discovered the missing ‘body’ and hit the security alarm.
Constantine looked Marco over with disfavor once they were outside. “I don’t suppose you can drive like that.”
“I can try.”
Constantine shook his head decisively. “Get in the back. Stephen drove me down. He can manage the drive back. I want a report on what happened.”
Marco struggled to gather his wits and his memories once they’d settled in the back of the limo, but he was weak from lack sustenance and his thoughts were hazy.
“Bronwyn took a walk,” he said finally. The day-walker you’d set to keep an eye on her had just returned to report that she was up and about. Since the sun had set, I decided to tail her myself. I didn’t expect trouble.”
“Which goes to show you’ve a lot to learn,” Constantine retorted. “One should always expect trouble, particularly when one the elements is a female and the other is
57
mortal.”
Marco blinked at him. “But … Bronwyn’s both.”
“Precisely. Let’s skip to the part regarding who took her.”
Marco paled. “The Lycans … I think.”
Constantine’s face hardened. “You think? Or you know?”
Marco swallowed with an effort. “They overpowered me. I didn’t see who grabbed her, but it was Luke Gray Wolf that I fought. He seemed pretty dead set on having her.”
Fury flickered in Constantine’s eyes. “Put yourself together. We’ll do a walk through and see what we can determine.”
Marco nodded instead of pointing out that he was too weakened to manage it.
Constantine’s obvious battle to retain control of his temper was enough of an incentive, however, to force him to find the strength, but he was so weak once he’d managed it that it was all he could do to drag himself from the limo once Stephen had parked it. “I need sustenance,” he complained dizzily once he’d gained his feet.
“And you’ll get it once I have what I need,” Constantine said coldly.
Nodding, Marco tried to focus. “I’d just stepped out of the club when I spotted her there at the corner. She’d turned to walk down the street, but I had the impression that she’d been heading toward the club.”
Constantine took his arm and strode briskly down the street in the direction Marco had indicated, halting at the corner. “Which way?”
Frowning, Marco wavered. “There was a man across the street when I reached the corner. He was following her.”
“Mortal?”
“Yes … I think … No, I’m sure of it.”
Constantine frowned thoughtfully. “No doubt that was the headless corpse they found. A pity. I would’ve liked to speak with him. What happened next?”
“Lycans came out of the building about halfway down the block. I’d spotted one across the street, though—Luke Gray Wolf—and was watching him. When he suddenly tensed, I glanced back toward Bronwyn and discovered she was surrounded by Lycans.
I’m sure they came from the building. I had no inkling they were anywhere about until they abruptly appeared to encircle her. I raced toward them as they grabbed her, but Gray Wolf reached them before me. And then there were Lycans everywhere, fighting. I tried to plow through them to get to her, but they were so intent on fighting each other for her that they kept tossing her from one to another.
“Finally, I saw that they seemed intent on passing her to the Lycans on the fringes of the battle. Apparently, Gray Wolf also noticed. He broke off his fight and leapt the group, grabbing her moments before I arrived. He caught me off guard. When I’d picked myself up, I saw him bounding down the sidewalk with her. I gave chase and we ended there—in the church yard.”
Constantine surveyed the cemetery with distaste. “I see no reason to go in …
unless there is something there I should see?”
Marco shook his head. “I confronted the Lycan there. He was intent on tossing insults and trying to convince Bronwyn to hide. I told her to go back to the club.” He hesitated. “She knows we’re vampires. The Lycan made sure of that.”
Marco wasn’t sure what expressions flickered across Constantine’s face, but he
58
was certain that absolute rage was one of them. “Which explains, I must suppose, why she decided not to return to the club,” he said finally.
“I didn’t see where she went,” Marco confessed. “I’d thought to stay only long enough to scatter them and then go after her, but I underestimated the Lycan.”
“No great surprise,” Constantine said absently, glancing up and down the sidewalk.
Marco slumped wearily against the wall as Constantine strode off, looking around as if he was searching for something. “Cat,” he said abruptly.
If Marco had been more in possession of his facilities, he would’ve had the sense to keep his mouth shut, particularly when he could see Constantine was talking to himself. The comment surprised him, however. “Cat?”
Constantine whipped around to pin him with a hard gaze. “The Raja.”
He paced back to where Marco stood, staring at him for so long that Marco had begun to fear for his existence. Finally, he dismissed him. “Return to the club.”
Relieved, Marco gathered what strength he could and began to make his way back, struggling to remain conscious until he could reach the club and the possibility of sustenance to regain his strength.
Constantine turned away from his servant as soon as he’d dismissed him, surveying the building across the street. Finally, he crossed the street and settled to wait with what patience he could muster. He was fortunate. He had only been waiting a little over an hour when a likely looking Lycan approached the building. He stepped out of the shadows as the Lycan reached the long row of steps leading up the building.
“You should invite me in.”
The Lycan stared at him for a long moment and finally shook his head. “Get out of my head, Vamp!” he growled.
“When you’ve invited me in. I have a burning desire to converse with your alpha, Lycan. Is he, perchance, inside?”
The Lycan stared at him dully and finally nodded. “You should come in and speak to Tommy.”
Constantine smiled at him thinly. “Thank you. I believe I will. Lead the way.”
Nodding, the Lycan marched up the stairs and opened the door, stepping back to allow Constantine to precede him.
Constantine surveyed the building with a touch of distaste once he was inside and finally turned to the Lycan again. “Where will I find him?”
“The penthouse.”
Constantine glanced from the stairs to the elevator and finally decided upon the stairs, racing up them so swiftly the Lycans he passed along the way saw nothing but a brief blur of motion. He reached the penthouse level by the time they’d begun to search for the source of his scent. Throwing up his arms, he sent the double doors at the entrance flying backward to shatter against the wall.
The Lycan was pumping into a woman sprawled on the bed beneath him, but at Constantine’s entrance, he leapt from the bed, landing with his feet firmly planted, tensed all over to meet the threat.
“You have something I want,” Constantine said coldly. “Give her to me and I’ll allow you to die a swift death, Lycan.”
Fear flickered briefly through the Lycan’s eyes, but he went into half-shift in the
59
next instant and charged directly toward Constantine. Constantine waited until the Lycan was almost upon him, extended his talons and cut four deep furrows across the Lycan’s belly as he stepped to one side. Roaring in pain and frustration, the Lycan, unable to halt his charge, slammed full tilt into the wall near the door, crumbling plaster and wood upon impact. Shoving away almost at once, he whirled to face his adversary again, holding an arm across his belly. “What do you want, vamp?” the Lycan growled, stalling for time while he struggled to mend the flesh of his belly enough to hold his entrails inside.
Having examined the terrified woman on the bed and assured himself it wasn’t Bronwyn, Constantine enthralled her, suggesting she sleep for a while. “Bronwyn.
Where is she?” he demanded coldly when he turned his attention to the Lycan again.
The Lycan stared at him blankly. “I don’t know a Bronwyn.”
“The woman you seized last eve,” Constantine said tightly.
Enlightenment dawned. “I don’t have her,” he snarled, charging the vamp again.
Constantine barely evaded him that time. He chided himself for his clumsiness, wondering if his age was finally catching up to him or if it was his rage that had distracted him.
“Stand and fight, damn you!” the Lycan snarled.
Constantine allowed himself a cold smile. “Where is she?”
“In hell … where you will be when I get my hands on you, vamp!” the Lycan snarled, leaping at him a third time.
Constantine made no attempt to evade him that time. Bracing himself, he took the brunt of the blow, curling his taloned fingers into the Lycan’s throat. “Tell me you didn’t do anything that stupid, Lycan,” he snarled. “Your ability to heal swiftly only means that I can torture you endlessly before I finish you.”
The Lycan coughed, spitting up blood, clawing at the hands that tightened around his throat until his eyes began to feel as if they were bulging from his head. “I don’t have her, gods damn you!”
Constantine eased his hold a fraction. “Who has her?” he asked through gritted teeth.
“Luke Gray Wolf!”
“Where will I find Luke Gray Wolf?”
“Can’t help you with that.”
“That’s a pity.” He released the Lycan and flicked at the blood on his clothing with an expression of distaste. “I’ve never much cared for Lycan blood. Too rancid.”
Tommy uttered a snarl of rage and leapt at him, but Constantine was prepared for it. He leapt aside as he had before but targeted the Lycan’s throat, severing his jugular.
Blood spouted from it in a red fountain.
Grasping his throat, the Lycan dropped weakly to his knees.
“What does he want with her?” Constantine asked coldly.
Tommy managed to lift his head and leered at him. “Give you two guesses …
last one don’t count. Probably fucked her six ways from Sunday by now.”
“Crude,” Constantine said chillingly. “I’ve always detested that about Lycans.”
“Thought you was gonna make me die slow,” Tommy grunted.
“That’s the problem with thinking when it’s something you’re unaccustomed to, beast. To be truthful, I don’t really care … as long you die.”
Turning toward the door, he studied the Lycans massed on the other side, held by
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the force he’d erected. “I believe there’s about to be an opening at the top,” he said coolly, then strode to the window and went out and down the side.
He was still in a rage when he reached the club. Stephen fell back at his expression. “The Lycans have her. Send everyone out to scour the city and discover where Luke Gray Wolf is holding her.”
He paused when he reached the stairs that led to his lair and turned back to survey his minions. “Be certain heads will roll if I don’t have that information in short order.”
He stripped his clothing off with unaccustomed violence once he’d entered his chamber, flinging the pieces away from himself as he strode toward his bath. The images dogging his steps weren’t banished by the pounding water. Opened or closed, he saw Tommy’s hips as he pumped into the woman sprawled across his bed—except it wasn’t Tommy and it wasn’t the faceless woman. It was Luke Gray Wolf and his Bronwyn.
Balling his hands into fists, he slammed them into the wall of the shower hard enough to crack the thick slabs of marble. “She’s mine! I’ll take him apart limb by limb bloody limb if he’s touched her!” he roared.
The expenditure dulled his rage, but not by much. Shutting the water off, he snatched his robe from the hook by the door and shrugged into it without bothering to dry himself, returning to his sleeping chamber to pace and think.
It occurred to him after a time that he might well have started a war between the vampires and lycans by killing Tommy Two Horses, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care. He’d touched her! He deserved to die!