Bewitching the Werewolf Read online

  Chapter 5

  The next morning I had a plan. I was going to keep it professional and bring him a coffee. He couldn’t fire me if I came with a mocha, could he?

  One Grande, half-chocolate mocha with light whip, and one percent milk later, I went waltzing into the office building. People were working at desks and computers in a huge open space, but apparently Zack hadn’t come in yet. His secretary let me into his office, keeping the door open, to wait.

  Zack came in twenty minutes later looking a little disheveled and tired. He saw me and his mouth made a hard line before giving me a tight smile.

  Shit, I’m still fired.

  “I brought coffee! A mocha, actually.”

  “Thanks.” He threw his briefcase onto the desk haphazardly and it slid off, hitting his chair and then bumping to the ground. He looked surprised and then jerked his gaze back towards me, frowning at me. Distracted much?

  “Sorry, I’m a little off my game. My mate is here. But a coffee is really nice of you.”

  I stood up straight, felt my stomach plummet into my two inch pumps and gave an odd smile, “Mocha, actually. Well, that’s great. I guess you didn’t need any hocus-pocus after all.”

  “What?” He threw me a confused look. “No, last night she showed up at the gala. But I couldn’t find her and now she’s back again. She’s here, somewhere in the building.

  “Well, I’ll just leave the coffee here and see you…never. It was nice to meet you, I’m sure they’ll want at least half the retainer but you’ll need to work that out with them. I just make the magic happen, don’t get involved with the billing much, you kn—”

  “Why do you have verbal diarrhea?” he said frowning. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I think you bring out the worst in me. He picked up the mocha from his desk and took a sip.

  That comment made me frown. But I’d heard about my effect on people before so I was willing to let it go.

  “Eww. No I don’t. I was just trying to say goodbye in a polite—

  “Hold up. You can’t leave yet. Can’t you do like a locator spell or something?”

  It was my turn to give him ‘confused face.’ “You lost her already?”

  He growled at me and I took a step back. It was kind of hot, but mostly it just reminded that this guy wasn’t as human as he looked.

  Definitely outside my comfort zone.

  “No. I couldn’t find her last night. She left the party before I could find her.”

  “What about your super power?” I tapped the side of my nose.

  “There were two hundred people in that room, believe me it was hard to smell anything. And that was probably for the best. Chanel no. 5 and salmon don’t mix.”

  I wanted to say eww again. “Eww. Then how did you know she was there?”

  He leaned back against his desk, legs crossed at the ankles. “I felt it.”

  For a moment it seemed like he was talking just to me. I found myself walking closer, stopping a foot away from his crossed ankles, close enough to smell his cologne. It smelled really nice. “Hey, why do you wear cologne, I thought you didn’t like smells?”

  “I’m used to it. I don’t notice it. And she’s here now.”

  “Really?” I looked around, expecting some tall leggy blond with red nails like claws to jump out from behind the door or something.

  “Not in here, out there” He made a waving motion. “In the office.”

  “Well then why are you here? Go get her. Atta boy. Fetch.”

  He looked at me with cold patience. “Do you know how many people are in this building?”

  “No. I don’t work here, I have no idea,” I said reasonably.

  “Three hundred.”

  “You’re right. That is a lot.”

  “I have no idea how to narrow it down. But I have to find her. I can’t risk her leaving.” His gaze slid away from mine and I felt like there was something he wanted to say but was trying not to.

  “I can’t locate her. I would need something that belonged to her. We’d have to know who she was first. But here is a thought. What if you pulled the fire alarm, like as a test, and as people filed out the door you’d know when she left the building. We could watch on the surveillance cameras.”

  He looked at me in shock. “That’s a great idea!”

  “Do you know how often people tell me that? And they always look just as surprised. It’s really irritating.”

  He gave me a small smile, and we headed down to the first floor security office. The security officer was named Chuck and he had a gut the size of a basketball. He also worked with a gal named Heidi. But boy, was she misnamed. She was the female version of Chuck.

  And I was pretty sure they batted for the same team.

  They made an announcement that they were going to test the fire alarm and have everyone gather at the very edge of the parking lot, about five hundred yards away.

  Hopefully, it would be far enough. We watched them file out of the building, Zack and I were staring at the screen, a few feet apart, arms crossed, leaning in as though that would make the image clearer. As the minutes ticked by, my shoulders started to ache with tension and I forced myself to relax. Finally, everyone was out of the building and shock— nothing had happened.

  “Well?” I asked, desperately curious.

  “She’s still here. I didn’t feel any change; she hasn’t disappeared or gotten closer or anything.”

  I had a horrible urge to giggle. “So either she’s out there and we missed her, she’s in the bathroom with stomach poisoning and she hasn’t left yet. Or it’s Heidi.”

  Heidi didn’t know what we were talking about but she gave us an evil glare. I bet she had a mean softball arm.

  Zack looked at me, giving me a quick once over, voice soft and intense. “Those are the only options you came up with?”

  Gulp.

  “You better go outside,” he said in a low tone.

  “Heidi is coming too!” I said.

  “Fine. No offense Heidi, I’m sure you’re a lovely woman but I suspect you’d be just as surprised to find I was your mate as I would be.”

  She grunted and left, hitching up her pants as the door closed. Chuck chuckled and talked about being in a pickle or stuck in a sandwich or something. I was frankly so shocked my ears were ringing a little and I didn’t catch it.

  “It’s not me.”

  “Go outside so we know for sure.”

  “There is absolutely no reason to. It isn’t me.”

  He growled again. “What makes you so sure?”

  “Well, I hate doggy-style for one.”

  Chuck high-tailed it out the door, and oddly, it made the room seem smaller. Zack was looming over me. He took a step closer and I backed up, ass hitting the security system controls.

  “Then you haven’t done it right. Go outside.” His voice was so seductive my nipples turned to stone.

  My throat was dry.

  I went.

  I walked outside, and with every step, I heard an echo in my brain, a little mantra, ‘I’m not his mate’, ‘I’m not his mate’ and every fifth or sixth step would be overlaid with his comment about not doing it right.

  Jesus.

  Ten minutes later we were told to come back in. Zack was nowhere in sight. What did that mean? I went back to the office, imagining that everyone’s eyes were on me.

  Totally imagining it. For a brief moment I wondered what it might be like to be Zack’s mate. The one person in all the world that was meant for him. My eyes got a little teary eyed and I blamed it on the fluorescent lights. He was hot, charming, a leader, funny, hot, sure he turned furry every now and again. But once a month I was no picnic either.

  But I just couldn’t fathom that it was true.

  Zack’s door was slightly ajar, so I knocked and heard him tell me to come in. I peeked my head around the door and he was standing next to a little winebar.

  “Brandy? Scotch?” he asked me in a flat voice.

  O
h, fuck.

  “Is it to celebrate my lack of matey-ness?”

  “Nope.” He swallowed his back in one huge gulp. I wasn’t offended, I’d drink too if I found out I was my mate.

  He poured me a glass of something and prowled towards me, almost proprietarily.

  I blushed and almost took a step back, but thought it was a good idea to stay still. Otherwise, he might think I was submissive. Wait, was that actually how it worked?

  Holy shit, was he going to treat me like a dog? It didn’t matter, I wasn’t his mate.

  “Hold up, hound dog. So I guess that when I left the building the ‘feeling’ went away?”

  “You got it. The only thing I didn’t understand was how I felt her presence last night even though you weren’t there. But I just made a phone call and guess what I found out? Apparently the house car dropped you off outside the party last night. So you were there, weren’t you?”

  “Yes,” I said, like I was facing the guillotine.

  “Do you want me to explain the joys of doggy style to you or just give you a demonstration?” he said it half-jokingly, but the look in his eyes was dead serious.

  I backed up.

  “I’m not your mate! There is another explanation. Down, Kujo.”

  “You yuck it up with those dog jokes but you’re going to pay for each and every one of them.” He wrapped an arm around my waist and yanked me flush up against him.

  I felt him through my clothes, hard and ready, his hips against mine. It was exciting, frightening, made my legs a little weak and my panties a little damp.

  “How—” I had to breathe and swallow before I could say anything else. “Out of curiosity, would I pay?”

  “I’ll show you once I get you out of these clothes.”

  And then he kissed me. Softly, like a friendly, nice-to-meet-you-can-I-strip-your-clothes-off-and-bury-myself-inside-you-kind of kiss.

  I finally pulled back, but I didn’t want to and hoped that I had been able to convey a yes-you-can-and-why-haven’t-you-done-it-already response when I’d moaned and shoved my tongue into his mouth.

  “What happens if I am your mate? Where do we go from there?” I mumbled, unwilling to allow him to get too far away from me. I kept my arms twined around his neck and looked into his eyes.

  “Station wagon, two kids, the whole deal. And maybe a wolf litter or two.”

  That made me feel a little nauseous. Something must have shown on my face because he spoke again, and gripped my hips tight to hold me still.

  “We’d date. Get married and try to live happily ever after. Isn’t that what most women want?”

  Oh god. I could feel myself on the verge of hyperventilating. The plane was going down and I couldn’t even say mayday.

  “You don’t seem very happy about the idea that we might be perfect for each other. Why is that exactly?” He nuzzled my neck and I could feel his warmth seeping into my frozen bones.

  “You’re a great guy. Really. You seem…amazing. But I’m not a soul mate kind of person.”

  He jerked away from me, staring at me intently like he’d know whether or not I lied by close study.

  “You don’t think it’s possible?” he asked, shocked, like I was a five year old telling him I didn’t believe in Santa Claus.

  Which told me that he did believe in soul mates. This guy believed in soul mates and he thought I was his.

  My body felt a little trembly. “No. It’s…possible. Just not for me, with someone like you. You know, the whole package. You’re like all that and a bag of kibble,” I said.

  “You walked in the door and it was like being punched in the stomach.”

  “That good, huh?”

  He chuckled. “Worse. But you were so…prickly and different to what I expected that I just couldn’t believe you were my soul mate.”

  “And now?”

  “Now I’m thinking there are going to be a lot of dog jokes in my future. You’re smart, funny, have a great body, why wouldn’t you deserve a catch like me?” He sounded self-deprecating and it was really adorable. “Don’t you think you deserve to be happy?”

  Oh. Ouch. Did I deserve to be happy? That was a brainteaser. Yeah, sure I did. But I didn’t expect it to be so…imminent. To be confronted with it and have to make a choice for it. I guess I had thought I’d date some guy and a lot of time would pass, we’d get married and I’d realize I was in love— it’d take me unawares, like a mugger in the dark.

  He wanted me to make a conscious decision, to have faith in him, myself and the enigma idea of ‘us’.

  “What happens if I say yes?” I asked.

  “We will leave here immediately and go to your hotel or my house. I’ve got a raging, enormous…headache. And then, we get dinner.”

  “It’s ten am!”

  “It’s a very serious headache. I expect I’ll need repeat applications of whatever you did before.”

  “But I would get dinner? Somewhere nice I hope,” I said, trying to keep it light, disbelieving that I was making plans to not only sleep with this guy but more… like permanent more.

  “You can hope. I’m thinking it might be room service.”

  I shivered and felt myself skip a breath. He must have seen my panicked look. “Trust me. Just walk out the door.”

  So I did.

  We walked side by side to his car, the strangest and most uncomfortable walk I’ve ever been on. I knew he was near me. I could almost feel him there. I couldn’t look at him directly so I watched the ground and the parking garage, catching glimpses of him out of the corner of my eye.

  He walked over to my side of the car and opened the door for me. I walked past him, imagining a little crackle of energy between us, like static cling when my underwear stuck together.

  He closed the door and walked around the car while my heart beat a million times a minute. He opened his own door and sat down in the driver’s side, closing the door.

  The keys were in his hand and I saw him squeeze his fist tight. He didn’t start the car, just sat there looking out at the parking garage.

  “Jesus,” he said quietly, still staring straight ahead.

  I turned to see him, not having my seat belt on yet, and all I wanted to do was lunge across the space and straddle him. Have sex with him here and now. He was too close, like all our energies were getting pent up in the little car, making me more and more desperate to have him inside me.

  He took a breath before putting the keys in the ignition. Then he turned to me, car still off. His voice was low, almost pulled from him like he didn’t really understand the question or the answer but was thinking about something distant and very far away.

  “What do you think, your hotel is about twenty minutes away?”

  “Yup.” And I was thinking the exact same thing. I couldn’t stop looking at his lips. They flattened as he watched me.

  “What time is it?” He looked at his watch and answered his own question. “Ten. No one will be leaving for lunch for quite a while.” I watched as he turned and faced forward, running one hand through his hair as he looked at our logistics. It was a large parking garage and where we were was secluded and dark. The odds of someone seeing us having sex, if they even came out, were low.

  “Not much of a backseat,” I said, and yet I was already leaning forward, trying to get closer to him. Be on him. Take him.

  “Fuck. God, I can smell you. You’re everywhere,” he said, voice like misery.

  It was so hot, so primal and then we were kissing, our mouths already having sex while the rest of our bodies tried to catch up. His hand was behind my head, holding me where he wanted me.

  His arms dragged at me and I climbed over the seat, both of us panting hard.

  “Wait. One moment,” he said.

  Zack reached down and the seat gave a huge jerk as he pushed it back, reclining it so I wouldn’t break my back on the steering wheel. I made a squeak at the sudden movement and he looked at me with a slightly sheepish smile.


  We both laughed a little and then we were kissing again, kissing with a trace of a smile that I thought I could taste.

  It was so right, so necessary. But all I could think was now, now, now.

  His hands slid up my thighs, under my skirt and there was a sharp tug, my underwear ripped away from me. His mouth slanted beneath me, plunging deep, the taste of scotch on his tongue an aphrodisiac.

  He moved his fingers against me, finding exactly where I needed to be touched so that I cried out, moments from flying apart.

  “Don’t stop!” I gasped into his mouth, writhing upon him.

  “Never. You’re mine. Do you understand?” His breathing was harsh next to my ear, each exhalation licking over my skin and then I was suddenly coming, hard and fast. I heard the sound of his zipper, felt his knuckles graze me as he parted the fabric of his clothes.

  I kissed him and reached down, grasping him in my hand.

  His hands slapped to the backs of my thighs, trembling, his breathing harsh. I leaned back, looking him in the eyes, the depth of emotion on his face shocking me. The passion was obvious but he was also looking at me like I was a wonder, something perfect and fascinating.

  I slid down and his eyes closed, air whooshing out of him. His hands left my thighs, roaming upwards, over my stomach and to my breasts. He thrust upwards from below, deeper and faster, breath sawing out of him.

  And then his hand was in my hair, a loose fist at the nape of my neck, urging me to look at him. “You’re so beautiful,” he said.

  My heart melted a little bit and then his thrusts were faster, deeper until he held my hips hard, grinding me down onto him with a hoarse groan. I felt him come inside me, his head dropping forward to rest on my chest.

  I ran my fingers through his hair, thinking about how thick and nice his hair was in a dazed sort of way.

  “Let’s go to your hotel and get your things. I’ve got a nice little doggy house built for two.”

  “No more dog jokes.”

  He raised an eyebrow at me. “What the hell will we talk about?”

  I laughed. “There are just too many punch lines about me being your—”

  “Poodle?” he interrupted with a smile.

  “Exactly.”

  I slid back over to my seat and he released me reluctantly, started the car and began to drive. Two minutes later his phone rang. After saying hello he was silent for a moment and then he hung up the phone.

  We parked the car and left it with the valet. Zack wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me into him and leaving no space between us while glaring at every male that was nearby. The elevator doors closed and he grabbed me, pushing me against the wall and kissing me fiercely.

  The elevator opened and we stood outside my hotel room for a moment while I looked for the key.

  “My office called.”

  I put the card into the lock, looking for the green light so we could go in.

  “Half the staff walked out, said they were taking a sick day.”

  “That’s weird,” I said, not really getting it.

  “No it’s not. I found you and the pack knows. It’s proof. Now you know you’ll always be my—”

  I kissed him, and do you know, it’s still the best way to shut him up.

  THE END

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  If you enjoyed Bewitching the Werewolf, I would love it if you left a review. Thank you for taking the time to read my story, I know there are lots of options out there, and millions of books to read. Knowing that someone was willing to sit down and spend time reading something that I created and hold dear is a wonderful thing. Thank you!

  An excerpt of my novel Love is Darkness follows the blurb below.

  Valerie Dearborn wants a cotton candy life, but it’s more like a puffer fish: pointy, unusual, and—if not prepared exactly right—deadly.

  In London for graduate school, Val knows she's finally free. Her father and ex-almost-boyfriend are back in California and she's out of the Vampire hunting biz for good. Or is she?

  She draws the attention of Lucas, a 1600 year old Vampire, and King to his kind. He’s also wicked hot. As golden as Lucifer, and just as tempting, he makes Valerie an offer she can't refuse—help him find out if the Others (Empaths, Fey and Werewolves) still exist or he'll stop protecting those she loves.

  Lucas tells her that Empaths were a Vampire’s biggest weakness before going extinct hundreds of years ago. While the Fey or a Werewolf might kill a Vampire, an Empath could enslave them, seducing or harming with emotions at will. The one detail he leaves out? Valerie is an Empath.

  And after 1600 years of an emotionless existence, Lucas wants Valerie like a recovering alcoholic wants a wine cooler.

  Can she keep those she loves alive, stop Lucas from munching on her, survive a fanged revolution and still find a way to have that boring, normal life she’s always wanted? Probably not, but boy is she gonna try!

  Prologue

  Prague, Czech Republic

  15 years ago

  He wasn’t God.

  Although there had been a handful of years between his ascendancy to the throne and the killing of the Others, where he may as well have been. The world had not only responded to his whims but feared them.

  He wasn’t death.

  He’d created death, given death, even taken death away by making someone immortal. But death had never come for him.

  Time to rethink that one.

  He supposed it was fitting that he would die like Gaius. Lucas, a 900 year old, vampire ‘upstart’, had walked straight up to him and cut off his head without Gaius even blinking in protest. One swing of his sword, a clearing of ash and he had taken the throne.

  Gaius had sat there for weeks, staring at nothing like a mindless fool, until Lucas had decided it was enough, that faded glory and reverence only lasted for so long.

  But now death was stalking him, sinking claws into him slowly and sweetly so that he barely noticed. Did it matter? Did he care? If he went back into that catatonic state and never came out again, would it be so bad?

  He shuffled memories like a deck of cards in his mind, turning over static pictures of his life: himself laughing, despairing, fighting, even fucking. Events that should prompt vividly colored reactions, yet all he felt was gray.

  From birth he had known his death would be in battle, fighting for something with all his heart. And that’s how he knew he wasn’t death. Because death knew what he wanted and was able to keep it well out of reach.

  The sound of wild masculine laughter floated up the stairs to his room and Lucas returned to himself quickly, his heart thundering loudly as it sped up, momentarily blotting out the sound from below. His heartbeat calmed and he blinked, thick, dark lashes shuttering his pale blue eyes. There was a rustle of silk outside the door; Marion was coming.

  He'd sired her centuries ago. She knocked and he bid her to enter. Almost quivering with agitation she went down on one knee, head bowed modestly.

  “My King, Roberto has returned from the New World. I would ask that you come to see him, if it pleases you.”

  A thread of excitement weaved through her words. She was uncommonly tall, almost six feet, and painfully thin, her features sharp and harsh. Marion's hair was a vivid auburn, her eyes forest green. She looked just as she had at eighteen, the year she had died and become a vampire. But centuries of hard living, dissipation and unhappiness had hardened her, leaving their mark upon her frailness so that her vitality was a brittle mask.

  Lucas stood and went down the stairs, the vampire guards straightening as he passed with Marion at his heels like a vengeful spaniel. The New World she called it, as though she'd never heard of the United States of America.

 
; He looked at the grandfather clock as he passed, noting that it was now the 30th and he'd been inward for... twenty-one days. Was it possible? His hands tightened into fists and he felt a pang of worry that the episodes were getting longer.

  In the entryway to the great hall, Lucas and Marion came to a halt, taking in the tableau before them. The room was almost empty and dimly lit. A vaulted ceiling was high over-head, the beams dark with age. A gigantic limestone fireplace dominated one wall, necessary to generate enough warmth for the room which could easily seat two hundred people for dinner.

  Roberto was standing on a table, walking heel to toe in a careful process like he was drunk. He began singing, a soft song in Spanish.

  “What did you do?” Lucas' voice was deep and deceptively calm as he eyed the vampire up and down before pulling out a chair from the dining room table and sitting, crossing his legs casually as he studied Roberto.

  “I was in California, and I found a woman,” he started giggling then tried to stop. “She was like...flowers, like drugs or candy—” He gave a loose shrug, like he was giving up on finding the right words.

  There was a long pause and when he spoke again his voice sounded dreamy, maybe even a little regretful. “Stupid to have drunk her in one.” He sighed, his red lips tilting downwards into a frown. “Her blood burned me it was so sweet. An explosion and now it’s like colors racing through me.”

  Lucas stayed still. He didn’t want to make any gesture that might betray his shock. “Everyone out.”

  Marion waited as though ‘everyone’ didn’t include her. After all these centuries did she finally think she was powerful enough to challenge him? Then she bowed and left. He dismissed her from his mind. She was irrelevant.

  As soon as the room was empty, Lucas began asking questions. “How many people did you kill?”

  “Just the one! But her daughter was there. Saw the whole thing. Don’t know if she’d taste that good.”

  “What is the family name?”

  Roberto looked up, a cunning expression on his ferret-like face. “Why? You want some, too? I would be happy to take you. Umm, the name. Happy. No, that’s not it. Dee—oh wait. Dearborn. I think.” Then he laughed again.

  Roberto was behaving like he’d drunk the blood of an empath. But they were extinct. It was impossible. When was the last time he’d drunk from an empath? Four, five hundred years ago?

  Lucas remembered the man clearly. The bold, intense flavor of the blood as it had coursed down his throat. Like drinking wine instead of vinegar. Afterwards, he'd gone berserk, killing humans and vampires alike until the gamut of emotion had fled and left him yearning for death.

  Only Marion had risked coming to find him, his murderous rage keeping the others away. She'd found him in Austria, next to the lake he'd grown up on, crying and waiting for the dawn to kill him. Marion had held his hand and spoken to him soothingly, her maternal instincts at the fore as she convinced him it was just the blood and the empath’s magic that made him so upset, he didn’t really want to die. Didn’t want to kill everyone he met.

  When she'd tugged him up off the ground, the sky pink and yellow with the coming sun, he'd gone with her, feeling wrecked and defenseless. She'd led him to safety, finding them refuge in a cemetery. The same cemetery where he'd buried his wife and children centuries before.

  Lucas had dreamed and felt, reduced to near humanity all because of that man’s blood. They’d been a vampire’s biggest weakness, both a curse and a balm. A drug that he'd thought long exterminated. But here was Roberto, high as a kite, reeking of magic and blood, the woman’s bright scent on his clothes and skin.

  Dangerous. But his fangs ached from the sudden craving that swamped him. Even after the last time, the pain he'd felt, he still wanted it. At least it was emotion, something to feel when all he'd felt for hundreds of years was empty darkness.

  It would be madness to indulge; a potential nightmare instead of Roberto's drunken happiness.

  But the woman was dead, wasn't she?

  No revenge, no psychic connection where she could control him and manipulate his feelings. Roberto said there was a daughter, but her blood might be normal, the power an aberration. This could be the last chance to experience an empath’s gifts.

  Decision made, Lucas grabbed Roberto, biting into his neck before Roberto could defend himself. Blood coursed into him with a hot rush. The taste was bitter because it came from another vampire, but underneath that was a faint sweetness and spice that infected him.

  Just a taste and then I’ll stop.

  He knew that for a lie. He’d stop only when the blood finished riding him.

  Lucas drank furiously, like he’d just emerged from the desert, some unknown amount of time passing before he became aware of himself and his surroundings. Gathering himself, he forced himself to slow his drinking, feeling a physical pain as he released fangs from flesh.

  He threw Roberto from him and Roberto scrambled away, his hand at his neck, holding the torn flesh together.

  Lucas paced away from Roberto, hand over his mouth. What am I doing? His hand was frozen, blood coating his lips and now his fingers. He wanted to lick his lips, suck his fingers clean, go back to Roberto and find more. What a mistake.

  His hand trembled, in moments he'd be overwhelmed.

  His whole body pulsed in time to his heart, the blood snaking through him, leaving each nerve, blood vessel and cell altered and waiting for the magic to strike.

  He was a rod in a lightning storm.

  Was there even time to dispose of Roberto before he succumbed to the blood? He had to kill him, couldn't risk anyone finding out about the daughter.

  The daughter.

  Swiftly, he went back to Roberto, circling behind the crying man, hiding death for a few moments longer. With one solid blow his fist punched through Roberto’s back and into his chest, gripped the man’s heart in his hand and tugged it free, Roberto dissolving into ash.

  Lucas felt caged, the need to move, run, cry, laugh and hurt all vying in him for control.

  No.

  He could control himself. After almost two thousand years he was his own master. He was the oldest and the strongest. Lucas was his own law.

  His hands clenched.

  Emotion touched him like a cattle prod and he fell to his knees, dead heart pounding in a staccato rhythm. His hand rose to his chest like he could catch the sharp pain knifing from his heart outwards.

  Then it was gone. For just a second he thought that was it, that over the last four hundred years he’d become so deadened and powerful that the magic touched him, sputtered and died.

  Then there was a pulse.

  It’s not over.

  A small kiss of sensation that was almost visible, like heat shimmering off asphalt, tickled down his spine.

  This was a fatal mistake.

  Emotion crashed over him. Feelings of joy filling him until he wanted to laugh like Roberto had, laugh like he was happy, carefree and mortal. But he couldn't remember how to laugh, a rough sound erupting from him instead.

  The feeling changed, became a heavy pulse that left a deep throb in his sex. He was suddenly hard, full to bursting, aching painfully. Desire gripped him and he began to tremble in his need to—

  No.

  But the blood twisted through him, invaded every cell and molecule of his being, urging him onwards.

  He'd forgotten this power. The tide of emotion that even a small amount of blood had upon him.

  He'd known and forgotten.

  Lucas remembered being a man, the pleasure taken and given. He could almost smell feminine heat around him, what it was like to feel a woman's thighs lock around his head in pleasure. The whimpering cries as he kissed her deeply. Once he'd become a vampire, sensations and feelings had become muted, but not now. Now he felt human again.

  Desire became a fire within him, consumed him so that he was nothing but need. He fell to his knees, staring at his fisted hands. He swore, surprised to find his own
hand gripping his cock. His hips rose jerkily, body demanding release even as his mind resisted.

  And lost.

  His whole body seized, feelings of pleasure twisting within him, the power rebounding. He shouldn't fight it, he knew that, but it went against his nature to give in, and so he tried to hold out against the blood's call.

  His breath sawed out of him as he remembered the blood's rich sweetness. He squeezed himself reflexively, the memory of flavor flashing through his mind and then his body.

  Like a landslide, the orgasm swept through him, his mental shields collapsing and he felt the heavy spasm of his cock as he came. He breathed heavily, unable to move as the aftershocks of pleasure gripped and released him.

  An empath.

  Stumbling to his feet, Lucas went to his rooms, discarding his clothes haphazardly on his way to the shower.

  His mind raced and he remembered the world as it had been centuries ago. An uneasy balance of vampires, witches, werewolves, empaths and Fey. For centuries there had only been vampires, the Others gone. But an empath had escaped. Maybe the vampires were not as alone as he’d thought. Maybe the Others were scattered or hiding. What if they could come back? Restore a balance to the world and keep vampires under control. Could he find them? Did he want to?

  The thought was… intriguing.

  And then he remembered the dead empath had a daughter.

  Interesting.