She didn’t know whether he’d appreciate her touch or not, but she couldn’t remain in the room with him and do nothing. When he stilled again, she moved to the bathroom and wet a hand towel, then returned, wiping the sweat from his chest first though he hissed and jerked, nearly catching her in gleaming obsidian eyes when she looked at his face.
Dakotah managed to break away, her heart thundering in her chest at the reminder of his ability to hypnotize. He’d been unaware of her before, but now she could feel the intensity of his gaze as she retreated to the bathroom. It burned into her, causing primal instinct to roar to the surface and urge her to run. Even the wolf danced nervously inside her, though it insisted she stay.
Just as her own conscience did.
Dakotah closed her eyes for a moment, willing that conscience away. She didn’t need this. She didn’t owe him anything. And if she did, she’d paid him back by not walking away and leaving him in the woods.
She had her own set of problems. If the men Victor Hale sent after her managed to take her alive… Fuck.
Dakotah rinsed the cloth and turned, stepping back into the bedroom, her heart thundering as adrenaline surged through her at the sight of the silver bands lying on an empty bed.
She dropped the moistened cloth and took a step toward the bedroom door as the air around her seemed to thicken with deadly menace. The threat so real that even the wolf wanted to flee.
But there was no time to escape.
No time even to react as Domino shimmered into existence and attacked.
There was only The Hunger.
The wild rush as blood poured into starving cells.
There was no man. No wolf.
Only a host form feeding.
A drive to survive, because survival was the only thing that mattered.
The Hunger ruled unchecked, unchallenged, until The Heat rose, reshaping the savagery, allowing the man and the wolf to emerge and take possession of the shell, though both man and wolf burned with the twin flames of Heat and Hunger.
The wolf was the first to react. To recognize that its mate was dying and protest with its entire being and will.
The man acted, using his fangs to rip into his wrist before pressing it against silken lips, his voice a command that had to be obeyed. “Drink.” And with each swallow the flames receded, surrendering, leaving the wolf yipping with pleasure and Domino staring down at Dakotah, denying the truth to himself even as she opened her eyes and his cock surged to life so that he could fuck his bride.
“Leave,” he growled, ignoring what both the wolf and his body told him. Determined not to fall into the neatly laid out trap beneath him. One fuck was all it would take to bind himself to her sexually.
Too late, the wolf claimed but Domino refused to believe it. He rolled off Dakotah, eyes narrowing and nostrils flaring when he saw the mark on her neck where he’d bitten her.
A howl of denial formed in his mind, blending with the wolf’s howl of joy, the chorus bringing The Heat to life so only sheer force of will kept him from pouncing on Dakotah, from pulling her down and underneath his body when she scrambled to her feet and backed away from him, intent on doing as he’d commanded and leaving.
Dakotah was beyond fear. Beyond even shock.
Vampire.
The single word ricocheted around and around in her thoughts. Even his scent had changed, reminding her of the man who’d claimed Sarael, though the wolf’s familiar presence was blended with the cold, alien taint that now identified Domino.
Fire burned through Dakotah’s veins. Need, despite the fact he’d very nearly killed her.
But she had no intention of giving in to the wolf’s yearning or her own body’s demands. She had no intention of taking a chance and becoming vampire. The wolf she could accept, had learned to accept, but she wouldn’t lose the rest of her humanity. She wouldn’t lose what little control she had over her life. His command echoed through her, this time done without hypnotism, and yet she had to obey, knew instinctively that if they shared more blood, his will would rule. He would become The Emperor of the cards.
Bile rose in Dakotah’s throat as the fortune-teller’s words rang with finality. Another change awaits you. This time at the hands of a man unlike any you have known before. A man who wants your life, not your death. But just as she’d counseled Sarael, Dakotah refused to believe the reading held the only truth. She grabbed her knapsack from where she’d dropped it just inside the front door and rushed into the night, determined to put as much distance between herself and Domino as she could.
She headed in the direction of the campground, memories pressing in on her as she loped along the edge of the woods. Memories of another night, another man who’d attacked her—changed her—dying in the process.
A growl escaped. Her lips pulling back in a snarl as feral hatred filled her.
Not for Domino.
The wolf wouldn’t allow that, and Dakotah wouldn’t lie to herself.
Domino had commanded her to leave when they were in the woods but she’d gone back. She’d chosen to involve herself—forgotten a lifetime of painful lessons—and paid a price for it. Though she couldn’t guess what the true cost was yet.
Her blood burned. Her body burned.
Each step away from Domino was an act of will. A test of resolve. Making her push herself until finally she halted, lungs burning and sides aching from running.
Fuck! What was she going to do now?
The wolf was rioting inside her. Fighting her as it hadn’t fought since those early days. The days after she’d been taken from her prison in Atlantic City and delivered to Anthony Hale’s estate at the edge of the Pine Barrens.
Despite her value, the money she brought in for services rendered, men didn’t say no to the Hale family. Men didn’t ask questions about the women taken to Anthony’s estate and never seen again.
The feral hatred for Anthony Hale—and his father—was a wildness inside Dakotah. A living thing, fed by something alien…something she’d gained from Domino’s blood.
Not a thirst for revenge. Anthony Hale was dead. But a primordial need to hunt her enemy, to invade his home and destroy him. To kill Victor Hale.
Dakotah forced the thoughts away. Attacking Victor Hale would be suicide. She’d been running since she was taken to his son’s home.
She’d thought Anthony was just another sick pervert when he’d shown her into the den, his smile vicious as he’d said, “I’ve got a little entertainment planned. You can take off your clothing or leave it on. Either way, you’re going to get fucked in a way you’ve never been fucked before.”
When he left her alone, she’d found the hidden cameras and more—a weapon for herself in the pokers next to the fireplace.
She’d braced herself for anything. Except for the sight of the door being opened and a wolf entering the room, its penis extending beyond its foreskin.
It attacked without hesitation, ripping at her clothing and leaving her bleeding, fighting to keep from becoming someone else’s sick entertainment. The drive to not only save herself but to escape had been the sole focus, the years of “disciplining” clients giving her the strength and knowledge—the rage—to wield the fireplace poker with deadly efficiency and aim.
The wolf collapsed, blood and bone and brain oozing onto the carpet as its form altered and Anthony Hale lay at her feet.
She’d escaped. Or thought she had.
You have died and been reborn into a different person.
A grim smile settled on Dakotah’s face. Death, the card of her past. The fortune-teller got that one right.
She forced herself to straighten and keep walking. Forward. Toward the campground, though it was a struggle to keep from turning around, from going back, from giving in to the voice that said there was no changing the truth of what had happened between Domino and her. What had happened between their wolves.