Marked (3 page)

"Don't believe everything you read, Tabitha," he said darkly, and a look of panic skittered across her features.  He didn’t doubt for a moment that the scowl wrinkling his face made him look like every bit the monster he really was.

But despite the biting comment, he still wanted her, more fiercely now than before.  She was strong, and unafraid.  That stance might be a bit unwise, but it nonetheless drew him to her.  It made him want to possess her in any and every way possible.  He started to reach for her again, but a familiar face appeared in the doorway over Tabitha’s shoulder, and he brought his hand back to his side.

"Tabby...I need you..." Cera hissed, breaking the tension. 
Tabby, huh? 
Russell smirked and Tabitha cringed.

"Tabby?" he asked, following his thoughts, and one eyebrow quirked toward his hairline.  She chewed her bottom lip, the sight very nearly sending him into orbit right there, and nodded.  "As in, a breed of cat?"

“Me-ow," she snorted, raking her fingernails toward him in the air.  The monster inside him wanted her, was clawing at his defenses, telling him to pounce.  The little witch was sexy as hell and had no idea.  His dick twitched against his zipper, begging to be freed.  But there would be no relief to the delicious torture until he had her right where he wanted her.  Russell took another step toward her, the scent of her magic swirling around him unchecked.

"How...fitting," he breathed.  Tabitha stifled a groan by biting her lip again—God, how he wanted to be the one to nibble on that succulent bit of flesh—and swayed toward him just a fraction before taking a step away.  She slipped out of his immediate presence, moving with small, backward steps.  "I should refill this tray and make preparations to serve the buffet now."  The simple rebuff was enough to remind him where they were and that she was, in fact, his subordinate.  He nodded stiffly and allowed his earlier professionalism to return.  He hated that…because professional, while what they both needed, was not at all what he wanted to be with her.

"After the meal is served, you should consider your dance card full this evening," he said, his tone cool and businesslike.  "I will have another dance with you, Tabitha.  Anyone who smells so strongly of magic must surely be interesting." 

***

As he turned with a smooth flourish and strode back into the crowd, Tabitha spun around toward the door and ran.  She blew past Cera and into the foyer, having to physically halt herself from continuing out into the night.  In the cool stillness before the open doorway, Tabitha leaned against the wall and sucked in several deep breaths.

"What the hell was that all about?" Cera asked as she entered the room.  It wasn't until her friend’s steady hand found her shoulder that Tabitha even realized she was trembling.  "God, girl...what is wrong with you?  Did he do something to you?  Do I need to go whip his ass?"

Her shaky gaze met Cera's.  "He smelled magic on me."  Instead of saying
I told you so,
Cera grabbed her by the arms and pulled her into a fierce, bone-crushing hug.

"Maybe it was just a bad pickup line," she offered, but it was no consolation.

"No," Tabitha said, pulling back to look into her friend's face.  "When he first came into the room, he actually sniffed me."

"Okay...weird..."

"I know."

"Well," Cera said, clearing her throat nervously, "I think I’m glad I broke that up.”  She cringed, then hesitated. “I know you don’t need anything else to worry about, but I really do need your help.”

Tabitha sighed.  “Tell me now…before the night gets any worse.”

“All right.” Cera took a deep breath, and puffed her cheeks out as she blew it through her lips. “One of the new boys is trying to pick a fight, and the only person who can straighten his skinny ass out is you." 

Tabitha rolled her eyes and followed Cera back into the kitchen, her mind still tossing Russell's words around like a badminton birdie.  He told her she smelled good…and then he told her that he smelled magic on her... He was also feverish, and he looked like he'd grown two days' worth of facial hair in only an hour...not to mention looking like he'd spent six months in a gym since earlier this afternoon...and his teeth looked so sharp...and he'd found Cera's nickname for her a little too amusing…

The platter Tabitha held went clattering to the floor as realization overtook her. The Blue Moon Ball in his private residence should have been the first clue, but she'd bypassed that completely, what with the hormones in her body raging at the very sight of Russell Tennyson.  Even as the witch-in-residence, it would have been difficult to pick him out of the crowd. Sure, she'd heard rumors of Russell's more…
feral
tendencies…but she never would have dreamed that there was any truth to them at all.

"Tabby...are you okay?" Cera asked.  Nodding mutely, Tabitha bent and picked up the platter, still turning the thought over in her head.  She wasn't ready to vocalize it yet, but the sheer determination on Russell's face when he left her standing on the ballroom floor told her everything she needed to know.  "You sure? You don't look okay."  Had she not been a zombie after such a cataclysmic revelation, something certainly would have been wrong.  At this point, she welcomed the numbness that came with her shock.  But her friend was looking worried, and she had to snap out of it.  Fast.

"I'm fine...just wandered off for a second," she said, and giggled nervously.  Cera eyed her like a hawk eyes a field mouse.  Of course she didn’t believe it.

"In all the years I've known you I have never seen you drop a single thing." She paused and looked Tabitha up and down.  "That son of a bitch really got to you, didn't he?" 

Oh, and how...

"I'm fine, I promise."

Tabitha was still mulling over the revelation that Russell was more than he appeared as she put an end to the argument—over the ownership of an iPod that was easily resolved by checking the pilfered item’s system settings—and fired the thief.  Cera, the strong-arm of the pair, grabbed the kid by his shirt and hauled him out of the house, stopping only long enough for him to grab his coat and keys, while Tabitha turned back to her work and stared at the items before her. 

She was still distracted by roiling thoughts of Russell as she mentally ticked off her progress, then picked up her serving utensils and re-entered the ballroom. The crowd was also too distracted to notice her, which she liked, as nobody would notice if she gave herself a little bit of help.

With a wave of her hand, the steamer lids vanished to reveal a beautiful array of meats—mostly medium-rare—and accompaniments that seemed more an afterthought than part of the meal.  Another huge, yellow flag had been waved right in front of her…near-bleeding meat, all over the place.  She should have seen it coming long before she ever got to this point.  As she straightened the last stack of plates, still berating herself for her utter lack of foresight, Russell seemed to materialize at her elbow. 

"Well done, witch."   His lips brushed the cuff of her ear, sending a jolt of sensation straight to her sex.  Gasping at the outward use of the term, Tabitha turned to face him and nearly suffocated.  He was almost on top of her.  Every muscle in his body was rippling with tension, and those icy, intelligent eyes also looked much, much wilder than before.  "You have a startling eye for detail."

"As do you...," she nearly choked on the last word, "wolf."  She swallowed hard and held his gaze.  Calling a shifter out was a large risk, both personally and professionally.  In her limited experience, they liked their secrecy, and this could easily go either way...for more than just her paycheck.

“Touché.” His lips curved into a gentle smile, but even that sight did little to settle her raging nerves. He was too close to be anything but dangerous.  “I was right to hire you…you are quite the observant little minx.”

“Does that mean your henchmen will be coming to eat me now?” she asked with a quirk to her own lip. Playing coy was also probably dangerous, but when the sort of fear that choked her brain was present, she'd developed the natural reaction to laugh in its face.  Perhaps that's why she'd been so lucky as to catch the attention of a male werewolf. An alpha at that.  He raised one eyebrow at her, but remained silent.  "Wrong word?"  A nod.  "Minions, maybe?”  He shook his head, the smirk on his lips turning into a full-blown smile.  “Either way, should I be worried about your pack ripping me limb from limb?”  The question earned a deep, hearty laugh.

"My pack has scarcely noticed you."

"Yet you know everything there is to know about me."

"Not everything."  The way he looked at her, determined and hungry, caused a chill to run through her body.  The anticipation she saw in his eyes settled at the base of her neck, trickling through her muscles in a way that was both wholly inappropriate and deliciously wicked.

"But you...you smelled magic on me." 

"My kind have excellent senses."  He leaned close, his lips nearly brushing her ear.  "I smell other things on you as well.  Fear first."  He sniffed again, the tip of his nose brushing along the corded vein in her neck.  "Determination.  Arousal."  His tongue followed his nose, leaving a cool, wet trail up her throat.  Tabitha's smart response disappeared along with her breath and all coherent thought. She knew his intentions, felt his desires. And after that, she knew she wanted exactly the same thing.

"The...the buffet is ready," she stammered.  "Are you...hungry?"

"Not for food."

"Oh."  Wise response, she knew.  "Me either."  Even better.  But the innuendo was no longer subtle and she no longer cared.  She just wanted him, any way she could have him.  "So what do you want to eat?" 

That's good, Tab—taunt the werewolf.
 

The darkness that passed across his features was the closest she'd seen him to ruffled.  Tabitha didn't have to ask to know what he was thinking; it was written clearly across his face.  And even though he did not speak, she knew the answer. "Won't your guests notice that you're gone?"

"Are you suggesting that I would not be allowed to go wherever I want in my own home?"  Tabitha glanced around—something to keep from staring at him—when she realized that every single occupant of the ballroom was making a large production of not looking back at her.  She could feel each and every one of them ignoring this scene with great intent.

"Excuse me a moment,” she whispered to Russell, and turned to face the crowd.  She cleared her throat.  “Ladies and gentlemen," she said, forcing magic into her voice to steady it.  A few people sniffed subtly at the air, but most recognized nothing at all.  "Your dinner awaits."  With a grand gesture toward the overflowing steamer trays, Tabitha motioned the guests to begin, and maneuvered herself away from Russell.  As people murmured their approval at the sight and began to pass between herself and her host-turned-predator, she ducked into the hallway for a breather.

The draft of cool air running through the corridor was a welcome change to the stifling ballroom.  It had the same airflow, but where she was now didn’t have that constant ping of awareness attached to that damn wolf.  But her relief was short-lived.  Russell had quietly followed, and he was on her before she even knew he was there.  The mere presence of him suddenly before her and filling up her vision unnerved her. 

"Walk with me," he said, the cool, generous smile she'd seen earlier gracing his lips as he extended his arm.  Feeling the distinct sense of doom settle around her shoulders, Tabitha threaded her arm around his elbow and allowed him to lead her away from safety.  The din of the party faded into the distance as they walked through the expansive hallways, leaving them encased in an odd silence.  The house was excessively large, and for the most part lit only by the full moonlight filtering in through the high windows. 

“This house is amazing,” she said, offhand.  Russell chuckled, his body vibrating against her arm.  Another bolt of desire shot through her, landing in her already muddled belly.

“It took me a long time to get to where I am,” he said, looking around as if seeing the house for the first time himself.  “I spent a good portion of my life fighting to stay alive.  It is truly a blessing that I am still here.”

It was an odd statement, but one Tabitha was not going to question.  It held too many unknowns, and too much of a chance that she would learn more than she wanted to know.

Russell led her into the damp, rain-kissed courtyard. Arm-in-arm, they strode down a cobblestone pathway toward a small fishpond nestled in the middle of a copse of weeping willows and sweetly sagging dogwoods.  The peaceful sense of isolation settled around Tabitha, allowing her shoulders to relax and the tension of her job to leave her body.  She took a deep breath and tipped her face up toward the soft, blue glow of the sky.  Most of the clouds had blown through, leaving the air above her draped in a dark blanket of sparkling gemstones, crowned by the full, round moon that bathed everything in its gentle, calming light.

"This is so beautiful," she said, and felt more than heard the rumble of laughter from Russell. 

"It is," he agreed.  When she dared a glance up at him, she found him with his eyes closed, face turned up toward the sky in much the same fashion hers had been.  This little coincidence struck her in the most poignant of ways; this behemoth of a man, in the space of that one moment, was completely vulnerable.  "Midnight is approaching," he said, his voice low in the silence of the garden. 

Oh, right.  Wolf.

“What...what does that mean?” Tabitha drew in a shaky breath, and her sense of peace vanished.  In the space of a breath, she realized she was alone with this man—no, not man…
monster
, and while she wanted him with every fiber of her being, she was also terrified of him.  Not because he was a werewolf, but because he was strangely calm for someone about to succumb to frenzy, and because she was so drawn to him despite the inherent danger.  Or maybe it was because of the danger.  Hell, she didn’t even know anymore!

"It means, little Tabby," he said, and a low, satisfied growl escaped him, "that it is time for the dogs and the cats to play."