“Well, aren’t you smart.” She crossed her arms defiantly.
“And where do you think you’re going? At night, alone, with a killer who just attacked the pack, and you, mere days ago?” asked Brayden, his voice like ice.
She clamped her mouth closed and stared hard at the ground.
Dmetri sighed. “Come on, you’re coming with us.” He moved to grab her elbow but she jumped back a foot.
“No, I’m not going.” Dmetri saw the fierce conviction in her eyes and wanted to sigh.
Damn the Kategans and their stubbornness.
“You really think you could make it out of here alone still weak from the attack?” Brayden’s voice was hard, unforgiving.
Vanessa’s jaw clenched. “I’ve traveled alone before and I’m pretty sure I can do it again, vampire. It’s not like you have any say over me.” She gave him a hard look, her lykaen glowing eerily in her eyes.
“We’re taking you back, Vanessa. Either come willingly or not, it’s your choice, but that’s the only choice you get,” said Dmetri.
In a flash, she lunged for her satchel. Dmetri sidestepped and she went tumbling beside him. He moved to grab her in the next second, but she darted back into the forest at a full on sprint.
“Dammit,” he muttered. He started to go after her, but Brayden, once again, beat him to it.
The man must be livid because he reached her in a matter of seconds. He spun her around by the arm and tackled her stomach with his shoulder, lifting her up. She went, flopping against him like a ragdoll.
Her screech nearly made his ears bleed. “Let me go! You fucking asshole don’t do this!” Brayden ignored her and kept his arm clamped over her kicking legs. Dmetri smirked as she started beating her fists, hard, against his back. He led the way back to the SUV. Brayden held the girl still in the backseat of the car as Dmetri drove them home.
“What’s your problem? I’m nothing to either of you. Just stop the car and let me out. I don’t belong here.”
Dmetri heard the pain and frustration in her voice and felt bad—a little. But no way was he going to let this little Kategan roam around unprotected while Claude was out there. Vane might kill him, or Claude might kill her.
Dmetri looked in the review mirror and saw Brayden sitting with the young girl next to him, his arm banded tightly around her shoulders. She slowly looked up at Brayden with a glare as mean as the devil’s.
“I hate you.”
The only indication that Brayden took heart to her words was a slight furrowing of his brow that was gone again a moment later.
“I know,” he said.
Chapter 21
Christine had a plan. Was it good? Probably not considering she’d thought it up after drinking a bottle of wine with Vera. Still, she lumbered up the stairs to his cabin and tried the door handle—it opened easily.
“Sweet.”
He was out somewhere, probably doing Justicar things. She closed the door behind her and stared at the couch. Memories of their first time together, after Dmetri was attacked by Claude, were still fresh as if it happened yesterday.
“Good times,” she said, petting the couch as she walked by it, “but you won’t do tonight.”
She stopped at the hallway and closed her eyes as the walls swayed side to side. Whoa, there. After a good deep breath, she continued down the hall to the small bedroom.
This was her one last chance. It was either this or nothing, and she couldn’t blow it. She pulled off her clothes with clumsy hands that didn’t want to work, and then lie down on the bed.
That mattress was stiff and not nearly as comfortable as her own, but still her eyes started to flutter shut. She forced them open until her eyes burned. But it was useless. They closed and she didn’t open them again until she heard the front door open sometime later.
She came to in an instant. Luckily, the dark room didn’t spin around her as it had before.
She actually lamented that the alcohol was nearly gone from her body, now she’d have to rely on her own courage without any excuses.
She heard the footsteps stop at the front door, and then the door closing softly. The steps came and she recognized the sound of his shiny black loafers on the wood floors. Click, click, click. He appeared in the doorway a moment later. His hair was disheveled, windblown, and looked like he’d run it through with his fingers. But his eyes held her prisoner. They landed on her, piercing with intensity, before slowly traveling down her naked body. Her body responded to his perusal. When his eyes met her stomach, it clenched in response; when they traveled over her legs, she spread them the barest of inches.
He cleared his throat. His voice hoarse he said, “This is a welcome surprise.” The corner of her mouth curved up with a hint of a smile. “Hi.” He came into the room and stared unbuttoning his shirt, baring inches of pale, hard chest and skin. He dropped the shirt to the floor and began tugging on his belt.
“If I could always come home to you like this I’d forever be a happy man.” She chuckled at the way he said it—seriously as if he meant it. And he probably did. If only she didn’t love him.
“Where were you?” she asked.
He sighed and the belt hit the ground. “Had an impromptu meeting with the new Master of Claude’s clan. We’ve made an arrangement with him.”
“Oh.”
She watched as his hands reached for the button of his trousers and opened it. Her mouth watered, tongue darted out to wet her dry lips. He started to pull the zipper down, but she held out her hand to stop him.
“Wait...let me.”
His eyebrow cocked in surprise but he moved his hands away. Christine walked over to him, putting a little extra sway in her hips that drew his attention. She stopped in front of him and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing kisses across his chest. His chest expanded against her lips with each breath he took; so full of life, so virile.
Slowly, she kissed her way down the middle of his stomach, in the indentation between the sets of muscles he packed there. The muscles bunched and flexed under her touch, sending her own breathing shaky.
“Millaya moya, what are you doing?”
The sweet endearment in that thick accent made her feel even sexier. She felt drugged, needy, and eager for his touch—to touch him. She pulled down his zipper with a gentle tug and swept his pants around his ankles. The black silk boxers he wore contrasted dramatically against his pale skin.
His cock, erect and hard thrust against the flimsy barrier, begging her to touch it. And so she did.
With one last longing look up at him, she took in everything. The heated, possessive look in his eyes, the slackened look of pleasure across his face, and then she covered his silken cock with her mouth.
The black silk grew wet under her mouth, clung to his rigid staff like a second skin.
Dmetri tensed, hands clenching before slowly releasing. He kept his hands stiffly at his sides as if he struggled with the need to touch her, or at least that’s what she hoped.
She trailed her mouth over him twice before she’d had enough. She wanted to feel the heat of him on her tongue, wanted to taste him and not the cloth. With a vicious tug, she yanked his boxers down, then lovingly grabbed his thick shaft.
His thighs bunched hard, breathing grew labored, and it was like music to her ears.
Between her legs she grew wet and hot. She wanted him to touch her, but first she wanted to torture them, and prolong the pleasure for as long as she could. Because she knew, that if he touched her right now, she’d fly apart and be done for.