Bitten (2 page)

Chapter Two

Amelia woke in a sweat. Her gaze went to her chamber window where a nearly full moon shone, bathing her bed in white light. She flipped off her covers and landed bare feet on a rich Persian rug. Her heart thumped insistently, partly from her most vivid dream yet, and partly from an overwhelming need to run, barefoot, in the night.

She fisted her hands. Why could she never remember the details of these dreams that left her body throbbing? That left her wanting to escape the confines of her room?

Snippets of the Rift River Valley. Flashing canines. Red eyes. It wasn't enough.

She rose and went to her washstand. Tonight, the cool water washed away her sweat but offered no relief from her mysterious impatience. She went to her window and peered at the bucolic valley her view afforded. She needed to be out there. Now.

At her door, she stopped with her hand on the knob.
Only a fool would go out after such a tale as Yasmine told me.
"And I'm no silly chit," she whispered, mesmerized as her hand turned the knob as if by its own will.

I should go back to bed.
The frilly hem of her white nightgown kissed her ankles with each step she took toward the grand staircase. "I'm not stupid. Why am I doing this?"
Because every needy, thrilling dream I've had led me here. Led me to this.

She gripped the banister and lowered her left foot to a cold marble step.

Led me to him
.

Staring at her toes, she stood still a moment and soaked in the silence. Then she lifted her gaze to the shadow-encased front door.

She was outside, running across the manicured lawn without a memory of descending the staircase.

She had no idea where she headed, though she seemed to know exactly where to go. An incredible joy filled her, and she smiled.

It felt right – the cool moisture of soft grass under her bare feet. The chill air on her hot face. The smell of pine and flowers and…lust.

She sprinted through a narrow wood, the prick of roots and downed branches somehow not bothering her in the least. Then she broke into a grassy glade where a swirling pool fed by the nearby river glistened in the moonlight. She halted, panting. Waiting.

The cry of a hawk took her gaze skyward. Every nerve in her body thrummed.
I should be afraid. I should feel hunted.
She grinned. "I'm the hunter."

* * * *

Hot. Hungry.
Sniff-sniff-sniff. His ears perked at a leafy rustle.
Wind, not prey.
He glanced at the moon but didn't feel the need to howl.
Not lonely tonight. Not tonight.

He leapt into a full-on run, enjoying the bunch and stretch of muscle. Cool air felt refreshing on his tongue, in his throat, and in his lungs.

Hunt. Kill. Eat.

A hawk issued a whistle-like call overhead, and he came to a sliding halt. Sniff-sniff-sniff.

Easy prey.
He licked his chops.

He moved slowly into the open.
Plump and juicy flesh. Human.
Baring his teeth, he growled at the woman standing at the glade's far end.
Run. Make this fun.

She did. Delighted, he let out a bark and raced after her.

Closer. Almost have you.

He nipped toward her heels. He imaged her writhing under him and it stirred his blood. He pictured her head thrown back on a scream.

Yes.

But not in pain.

Huh?
He stumbled and slowed. No blood? He wanted to rip into her flesh with his teeth. No, he didn't.

Then she laughed.

The world tilted and he tumbled. As if through a dark tunnel, he came to himself - not a wolf, not a man.

A man in wolf form. Werewolf. Cognitive thought and reason. All his memories intact. All his perception whole, yet modified.

She stopped and turned. In a refined English accent, smooth and sweet, she said, "I thought you were going to jump on me." Her breathy voice dipped in disappointment. She still bunched her gown in her fists, baring her legs from the knees down.

He took a menacing step forward and growled.
Run for your life. I'm dangerous.

Her features went kind and soft, her light eyes gentle and inviting. "I know you," she said quietly. "Ebenoral."

He growled louder and made her wish come true. He knocked her to the ground and straddled her, snarling and trying to intimidate her with a show of his canines.

She chuckled, lifting a bit, and touched her nose to his.

Her show of friendship and welcome startled him. Then pain, wracking and deep, gripped his spine and twisted. He cried out as his entire body burned in agony. His voice went from a whimpering yelp to a man's shout, and the pain ceased.

"Well, hello there."

Ebenoral opened his eyes. She hadn't moved. She lay under him, her golden curls fanned out on the grass and her eyes bright and warm.

She touched soft fingertips to his cheek. "I'm glad you came out to play."

Chapter Three

"What have you done to me?" he asked, staring into her eyes, his arousal pressed against her belly.

Stunned, she blinked. "Me? It's you who've done something to
me
."

"Are you a simpleton?" He cocked his head like a dog that heard a strange noise.

Immediately offended, yet strangely titillated, she placed a tentative hand to his chest. Yes, he was real. She wouldn't wake from this without recollection of the night's events. And she couldn't blame him for wondering. What kind of lady went wandering at night and laughed when a wolf came stalking? "You don’t know me?"

"No." He made to move, but she grasped his shoulders.

"Think about it a second. You have to know me because I knew you before I arrived in Rift. Maybe not your name or circumstances, but… Haven't you dreamt of me?"

Heat radiated from him, settling about her like a blanket. "I don't dream."

"I must sound insane." She studied his dark, deep-set eyes and strong, square features. He was handsome in a rugged, manly way she found irresistible. She only wanted for better light.

"It's almost a full moon." His eyebrows lifted. "Isn't that when the lunatics come out?"

Did he bait her on purpose? "Lunatics, yes. And wolfmen, apparently."

His shapely lips quirked into a half-smile. "Is that what I am?"

She laughed outright. "Don't tell me you hadn't noticed. I might be the one calling
you
crazy."

He frowned. "Is this real? Is any of this real?"

"If not, then we're sharing this insanity, and I don't think that's possible. Then again, two months ago, I wouldn't have thought wolfmen possible, either." She dropped her gaze to his mouth. She'd never wanted to kiss a man so badly. "I can accept it. Two months worth of dreams prepared me for tonight. For you. Can you feel it?" Excitement surged like electricity through her veins.

"Yes," he whispered. "But I don't understand it."

She snaked a hand to his tense nape and gently urged him down. "Don't try," she whispered. "Just accept."

His lips met hers, and she closed her eyes. Something told her she had done this, night after night, in her sleep. Those dreams didn't compare to the sheer, raw power of need that ignited within her now.

"My God," he murmured against her lips. He pressed the kiss deeper. "
Who are you?"

She heard the question part clearly, as if he'd spoken, but his lips had been too busy kissing. Adding pressure, he encouraged her to open. His tongue, hot and tasting of brandy, swept in to dance with hers. She issued a hum of approval.

Between her legs, her need spread like a flame licking along a log. Moisture seeped, coating her swelling, throbbing folds.

He inserted his knee between hers. She bent her legs, grazing her calves along his bare thighs. Her thin shift of a nightgown slid sensually from her knees to her hips. She was fully exposed. Ready.

She wrapped her leg around his hip. He moved his other knee in, and she shifted to link her ankles at the small of his back. His tongue did a fervent thrust and parry. She met him in equal enthusiasm.

"What you do to me! What is this spell you've spun?"
His words quietly insinuated themselves inside her mind. His hand found her breast, cupping it. Releasing her mouth, he skimmed kisses across her cheek and down the side of her throat. He sent his thumb over her hard nipple.

The thin material did nothing to reduce the friction, and Amelia inhaled a quick, delighted breath. "Please," she begged. This was the moment of magic. In her very soul, she understood
this
was why she existed.
This
was why she was bold and brash and instinctive. She'd been made for him.

On a growl, he rent her nightgown, baring her breasts. Another tear halved the garment completely. She didn't care. All that mattered was that she needed him inside her now – under a near-peaking moon with his power increasing.

In a move even she hadn't thought herself capable, she reached down and took hold of his hard, pulsing manhood. She fitted its tip to her slick opening and gripped him with her legs.

He groaned. Looking her in the eyes, he slowly pressed against her hymen.

"It feels so good. I need you." She took hold of his firm, wide shoulders, reveling in his strength.

He lowered his mouth to her breast. His square, white teeth clamped onto the erect nipple. A jolt of pleasure shot from her breast to her womb. She arched.
Take me now.

Of all the lessons she'd learned at Pembroke's Academy for Ladies, the one drummed into her the most was protecting her virtue. If she could, she'd laugh. Instead, she threw wide her arms in glorious abandon and embraced the wild, the reckless, the animal boldness in her nature.

"Yes," she cried. "Now!"

* * * *

Ebenoral's cock was so hard it hurt. He wouldn't find relief until he plunged in to his hilt. He longed to slam into her soft, yielding body and feel his balls rock against her round ass.

He stilled, reluctant to rip through her maidenhead. If he did this, what expense would she pay?

Her skin glowed and her blue eyes glittered. In her arch of pleasure, she perfectly matched the carnal fantasy he'd had during their chase.

"Will you sacrifice yourself?" His voice sounded deep, rough and strangled to his own ears.

She gave him an answering grin and clenched her legs.

Fighting her hold, he used his new strength to resist the urging of her thighs. "Hug me tight," he said, placing one of her hands behind his neck. For a fleeting moment, he wondered why he did this.

Then revelation hit him.

This was destiny. His transformation, his father's death, this beauty now gathered close in his arms. He couldn't fight it any more than a child could fight a growth spurt.

An overwhelming desire consumed him, and he inhaled sharply.

"I can't wait," she said.

He held her gaze a second longer then pierced her barrier and seated himself completely.

She screamed. Her spine arched. She clung to him, her head thrown back.

The scent of her blood reached him, and his scream joined hers as he began to morph. Pain and pleasure warred in him. He fought it with every fiber of his being. It worked in part, as he prevented full transformation, but his body was caught in between – half man and half wolf.

Instinct overcame thought, and he sank his cheek to hers and pumped his hips. Her scream ended on a ragged, raspy groan. Her hips rose to meet his every thrust. In his sensitive ear, her labored breaths and soft, high-pitched whimpers of pleasure drove him harder and faster.

As her breathing turned to moaning pants, her quim convulsed. She gripped his length in a milking undulation that wrung a cry of utter ecstasy from his half-wolf throat. Her walls grabbed his cock, jamming his tip against the firm gateway to her womb as she cried out her orgasm.

His heart ready to burst and his lungs aching, he hunched into a gathering flow of pure energy. It spread like liquid fire throughout his body then shot as an explosion into her. On instinct, he sank his animal teeth into her shoulder. He thrust once, twice. The taste of her blood on his tongue sealed the bond and sent him into final transformation.

"Ebenoral," she shouted, trying to hold him as he withdrew then leaped clear.

Mine. You're mine.

She sat, her shredded nightgown falling from her shoulders and leaving her stunning in her nudity. Her gorgeous breasts and flawless skin compelled him a tentative step toward her. She reached out a welcoming hand. "Yes," she said quietly, as if she didn't want to startle him. "I'm yours. Please come to me." Her gaze held no anxiety or censorship of his wolf form.