Bitter Blood (Blood and Moonlight Book 3) (12 page)

Aidan grabbed the bastard, snagging his wrist. The guy had a black raven tattoo that covered his inner wrist, and a snake was poised to bite that bird…
its prey.
“Do you like attacking those who are weaker than you?”

“Aidan!” Jane snapped. “He wasn’t attacking. You did that.”

“You were watching her.” He knew it with utter certainty. “You were out here, taking pictures of Jane.” He’d seen the glint of light that reflected off the guy’s lens. Jane was being followed, watched, and this SOB had just randomly appeared? He wasn’t about to buy that coincidence. No way.

“I was taking pictures of the street! Of the light coming over the buildings. Of
the dead.”
Roth’s breath heaved out as he straightened his shoulders. “I’m an artist. This shit is what I do!”

Aidan didn’t believe him.

Jane had bent to pick up the guy’s broken camera.

“Jane, look, he’s your boyfriend, right?” Roth said, his voice a bit frantic. “I mean, I remember when he came out of the fire at our old building. Calm him down, okay? Whatever weird-ass rage he’s on, calm him down.”

Jane slid closer to Aidan. She put her hand on his shoulder. For an instant, he did feel calm and then…

“Aidan, compel him to tell the truth,” Jane said.

Surprise flashed through him. Jane hated it when he manipulated humans. She—

“I don’t believe in coincidences,” Jane continued quietly. “So ask Roth why he was here.”

Hell, yes. Aidan smiled at his prey.

Roth blinked and the guy started to sweat. “Compel me? What’s that shit supposed to mean? Is this some weird threesome thing? Because I’m flattered but I am not down—”

“Dumbass, I never share Jane.” Aidan slammed him against an old crypt. “Compelling means you tell me exactly what I want to hear…because you don’t have a choice.” He could feel power pouring through his body. “What were you doing in this cemetery?”

Roth’s face went slack. His eyes seemed to glaze over.

“What were you doing?”
Aidan snarled.

“Taking pictures…for my exhibit. Life and Death, the thin line between…”

“Shitty title,” Aidan muttered.

“Aidan,” Jane said, a warning note in her voice.

He kept his tight hold on the human. “Why were you taking pictures of Jane?”

“Because Jane’s beautiful.” The answer rolled from him. “I saw her coming from that building and I had to take her photo, to add to my collection.”

That answer had Aidan’s wolf howling. Aidan took a slow breath. Then another. “What collection?”

Roth smiled. “I like beauty. I collect it when I can.”

Behind him, Jane swore. “I do
not
like where this is going.”

Humans could hide so much with their easy words and quick lies, but when Aidan had them under his compulsion, they had to reveal the secrets they kept deep inside.

“How do you collect beauty?” Aidan demanded.

Roth laughed. “With my art. I take pictures. I paint. I own the beauty. It becomes mine.”

Aidan thought about just slicing the guy’s throat open right then and there. “This dick is a serial killer in training,” he told Jane.

“Maybe, but I don’t think he’s the guy who’s been testing me.”

No, maybe he was just a freak who seemed to be stalking Jane…and other women. Aidan cocked his head as he studied the other man. “Have you taken pictures of Jane before?”

Roth smiled. “Lots of them.” That smile dimmed. “But most burned in the fire. So this was a good chance to get new ones.”

A growl rumbled in Aidan’s throat. “I really want to kill you right now.”

Jane’s fingers curled around his shoulder. “But you won’t. You’ll let him go, and I’ll call the PD and give them a tip to watch this guy before he turns into even more of a perv.” He felt the bite of her nails in his skin. “He…hasn’t already hurt anyone, has he?”

Aidan stared into Roth’s eyes. “Have you hurt a woman before?”

“No woman. I told you…” Again, that smile flashed. “I like beauty. I capture it.”

“You won’t
capture
anything else of Jane’s, do you understand?” He forced as much power as he could into that command. “You won’t even fucking look her way again, got me? You’ll stay away from her. Because if you don’t, I’ll give you a real up-close experience for that thin line between life and death bullshit exhibit of yours.”

Roth paled. “I…won’t look her way.”

“You won’t fucking stalk
any
woman, got it?” This slimy bastard was pissing him off.

Roth nodded.

“Send him away,” Jane whispered. “He’s not the one we want, and I don’t like us just being out in the open like this.”

Because neither of them had exactly experienced the best of times in that particular cemetery.

“Get out of here,” Aidan ordered. “And as soon as you clear the cemetery gates, you just keep walking, asshole. You won’t recall much about our little chat, but you
will
remember to stay the fuck away from Jane.”

Roth nodded. He reached for the broken camera. Aidan laughed. “Tough luck. You don’t get that back, either. Now get out of here.”

Roth stumbled away. He looked back, once, at Aidan, but his gaze didn’t so much as dart Jane’s way.

Aidan kept his gaze on the bastard until the man was out of the cemetery. Then he turned and stared at Jane.

His Jane.

“I lived in New Orleans for over a year with that asshole as my downstairs neighbor,” Jane said, shaking her head. Her dark hair slid over her shoulders. “He was weird, yes, but I never thought…” Her gaze trekked toward the cemetery’s heavy wall. “What happens when you can’t trust anyone anymore?”

He wanted to tell Jane that she could trust him. That she could
always
count on him, but the words wouldn’t come. Because he couldn’t be sure they were true. Not with the changes going on inside of him.

The rage was still there, he hadn’t stopped it. Rage that blasted through his very veins. He stared at Jane. That bastard had been taking her picture. What else had he been doing? Living in the same building, he would’ve had so much access to Jane. “I should’ve fucking killed him.”

Jane shook her head. “No, then you’d be—”

“Baby, I am the monster.” And right then, part of him gloried in that fact. He caught her hand, pulled her close. “And I wish I’d ripped out his throat.” For daring to stare at Jane, to lust for her—oh, yeah, the bastard had fucking lusted. Aidan had smelled that scent in the air. The fool had wanted Jane.

He’ll never have her. No one else will. Jane will always be mine.

The darkness stretched more inside of him, threatening to swallow the man he’d been. Threatening to take his sanity.

“For a minute there,” Jane said, her voice husky. “I thought you were going for his throat.”

If she hadn’t been there, he would have. Aidan didn’t speak as they left that cemetery. Back on the street, his gaze swept the area once more. More humans were out, filling the sidewalks. No one seemed to be paying him and Jane any attention.

But appearances were so often deceptive.

Aidan pulled out his phone. He called Vivian, even as his gaze kept searching for threats. The police captain answered on the second ring.

“What’s happening?” Vivian’s voice was tight. “Aidan, I’ve been trying to reach you
—”

“Paris isn’t dead.”

“What?”

“I need you to find out who was working on him at the scene of the fire. Any EMTs, anyone who was near him—you fucking bring those people to me, got it?”

“Aidan, how did he survive? There was no pulse.” Her voice was shaking. “I checked! I swear, I did. I would never let a pack member—”

“Bring them to me, Vivian.” She’d always been a loyal member of his pack. He knew he could count on her. “I’ll be at Hell’s Gate.” And he
would
get his answers.

“It’s going to take some time.” He heard her quick, indrawn breath carry over the phone line. “But I’ll get anyone I can find, I swear it.”

Aidan ended the call, then he curled his hand around Jane’s. His claws were gone, but his beast was about to break free. Time to get off that street. Time to get back to his lair.

And time to claim what was
his.

***

Roth Sly stumbled down the road, blinking blearily. He glanced at his hands. They felt…empty. As if he should be holding something. Doing something. He stopped at the street corner, just staring as others hurried across the crosswalk.

Why the hell was he on that street?

He touched his head. His temples were throbbing like a bitch.

Someone bumped into him from behind. He realized he was just standing there, holding up the damn line. Muttering an apology, he turned to the man who’d nudged him. “Sorry…I just…” Roth gave a rough laugh. “I must have pulled one hell of an all-nighter.” A hangover, that’s what he had. That’s why he felt weird and couldn’t remember exactly what the hell he’d been doing. He’d had blackouts before, usually after he drank himself into a sweet oblivion. But…he hadn’t drank like that in a very, very long time. Not since he’d started his last job.

The man who’d bumped him smiled. “No problem. We’ve all been there.” It was a friendly smile. Easy going. “There’s a coffee shop around the corner. Some caffeine might help you out, and they’ve got great beignets there.”

“Right. Yeah, thanks, man.” Roth turned away, rubbing a hand over his jaw and feeling the faint sting of a five o’clock shadow. He hurried around the corner, and, sure enough, down the way just a little bit, there was a coffee shop waiting. It was about thirty feet away. His left hand shoved into his pocket. Did he have any money on him?

Footsteps tapped behind him. He looked back, and that guy was there. The friendly dude from the crosswalk. Roth blinked. Was the fellow following him?

No, no, he was just being paranoid. That happened after he drank too much, too. Another unwanted side effect.

Roth pushed open the door of the coffee shop. The bell above his head jingled. He spotted an empty booth in the far back and he bee-lined for it. He sat down on the broken seat cushion, exhaling in relief.

And then, two seconds later, that same damn guy slid into the booth with him. “What the hell…?” Roth began.

The man shoved a thick, brown envelope across the table. “Where’s Jane?”

Jane.

Roth started to sweat.

“I know you were following her today,” the guy continued. He leaned forward. “I
paid
you to follow Jane. So where the fuck is she now?”

Hell’s Gate was dead silent. Aidan marched across the club and went straight to the bar. Jane paced behind him, but stopped in the middle of the cavernous room. She watched as he grabbed a bottle of whiskey and poured it into a short, thick glass. He downed that whiskey in one gulp and then poured more. “Aidan…” Jane began, edging a bit closer. His mood was volatile—hell, that was a serious understatement. The whole bar felt heavy and tense, a tenseness that was emanating from Aidan.

He drained the second glass and set it back on the bar with a thunk. “That didn’t help.” His gaze locked on her. His eyes were so bright. “I’m still thirsty.”

Something was different about Aidan. Darker. His features seemed harder and when he looked at her, the expression in his eyes was almost desperate.

His gaze slid over her face. Down to her throat. And that stare of his seemed to burn even more.

“I need a taste, Jane,” Aidan whispered.

“A taste?” Her own voice came out too high pitched.

He put his hands down on the bar, then leapt right over it. He stalked toward her.
Stalked.
Definitely the right description for his slow, steady movements. “A taste of you.”

Jane shook her head. “Captain Harris will be coming soon. She’ll—”

“Not yet, she won’t. It’s just you and it’s me.” His hand rose and his fingers curled along the column of her neck. “I need a taste.” His words were growled. And when he spoke, she saw his fangs.

Vampire fangs.

He pulled her closer. Her breasts brushed against his chest. All kinds of warnings were going off in her head as she stared up at him.
Handle with extreme care.
At the cemetery, she’d been aware of just how fragile his control had been. If she hadn’t been with him, Jane feared he would have killed Roth. Sure, the guy was an asshole, but did Roth deserve to have his throat ripped out for that crime?

His fingers stroked her neck. “Let me taste you, Jane.”

“Aidan…”

His head bent. His lips brushed over hers. It was a careful kiss. She hadn’t expected that care. His mood was so volatile, his darkness so close to the surface, that she’d expected a rough claiming from his mouth. Hard. Domination.

Not seduction. But he was seducing her. With his mouth and his tongue. His kiss was so careful, so tender, and Jane found herself leaning toward him. This was Aidan. Her Aidan. Fate kept trying to tear them apart, but Jane wasn’t going to let that happen. He was the one thing that had always felt right in her messed-up world.

He was the one person who made her feel right.

His mouth feathered over her jaw, then slowly moved down her neck. Jane’s head tipped back and a moan slipped from her throat. He always knew just how to touch her. Always knew
exactly—

His fangs sank into her throat. There was no pain, just pleasure, a white-hot lash that had her whole body tensing. Her hands rose and curled around his broad shoulders, but she didn’t push him away. Her nails sank into his shirt as she pulled him even closer.

He was drinking her blood. He was tasting her…

And she loved it.

Her breasts tightened as need spiraled inside of her. Not some soft, gentle need.
Lust.
Dirty, hot lust. Her sex ached and her panties got wet. She rocked her hips against him, wanting to be closer.

His bite—it was doing something to her. She was rubbing her body against his like a freaking cat in heat, and Jane couldn’t stop herself. She wanted her clothes gone, and she wanted him to fuck her. Right then. Right there. She didn’t care where they were. She didn’t care if anyone walked straight in on them. She needed Aidan.

Her breath panted out. “
Aidan!”

He locked his hands around her hips and lifted her up. He whirled and put her down on top of the bar, then he pushed between her spread legs. His cock was full, shoving hard against the front of his jeans. Her trembling fingers jerked at the button on his jeans and she pulled down the zipper. That hiss was loud in the bar, but not as loud as the frantically drumming heartbeat that echoed in her ears.

Want him. Need him.

Her own fangs were out. Her breasts were tight peaks. She wanted Aidan to lick them. Wanted him to lick her—everywhere.

Pleasure. No more pain. That was what she wanted with him. Always with him.

Her hand curled around his cock. It was thick and hot in her hand. She squeezed him and—

“Jane.” He’d pulled his mouth from her neck. He stared down at her, and she lost her breath as she stared at him. Aidan looked as if he wanted to devour her.

Staring into his eyes, she stroked him again, a long pump from the base of his cock to the head of his erection.

His jaw tightened. “I’m going to fuck you.”

“Good.” She needed him inside her. She needed—

“I’m going to own you.” His voice was dark and rough as he grabbed her shirt and wrenched it up. His claws sliced through her bra and his mouth locked on one aching breast. Jane’s head tipped back as she gave a wild cry.

In me. I need him in me—

“Just as you own me,” Aidan rasped against her. Then his hand was at the snap of her jeans. He moved fast—that wonderful paranormal speed—and she was suddenly naked on the bar top. He pulled her closer, and he smiled at her.

But…

That smile was more beast than man.

His fingers pushed between her legs. “Wet for me.”

She was
dying
for him right now. His bite had sent her body into an overdrive of yearning. She was about to start clawing at him if he didn’t thrust inside of her. The ache was constant. She needed him to fill her. She needed him to fuck her into oblivion.

The desire wasn’t normal. In some distant part of her mind, she knew that. Too intense. Too fast. Too consuming. But—

Screw normal.

Aidan yanked her to the edge of the bar. It was cold and hard beneath her and Jane squirmed—but her movements stopped when he bent over her and he…

He licked her. Kissed her. Stroked her sex and just fed that mad need that was about to rip her apart. Her hands slapped down on the bar as her body trembled.

“Fucking delicious,” Aidan whispered. He looked up at her with his bright blue eyes. “Fucking
mine.
”

And he was hers. Soul deep. Good and bad. Always…hers.

He positioned his cock at the entrance to her body, and he sank deep. A hard thrust that stole her breath and was
exactly
what she wanted. In the next instant, he’d pulled her right off the bar. He held her easily in his arms, so damn easily, and her legs locked around him. She rose on him, sank down, again and again, going wild with the feel of him inside of her. His mouth pressed to her throat once again. His fangs sank into her and as he tasted her, she felt his cock swell even more inside of her.

It was too much—his bite, the deep thrust of his cock into her—Jane’s orgasm hit, driving her over the edge and she screamed his name. It wasn’t some blast of pleasure, it consumed her. Shaking her, trembling through her whole body. She squeezed her eyes shut, she fought to get a breath, and the pleasure lashed against her.

Her sex squeezed him, hard and tight, and she felt him erupt inside of her. The hot splash of his release that just fueled her own climax. His grip hardened on her, he kept drinking from her, and Jane was utterly lost—taken.

His completely in that moment, just as he was hers.

She tried to get her heartbeat to slow. Tried to get her breath to ease. But…

I still want him. I want more.
The need—that dark, twisting need that he’d awakened in her—wasn’t gone. He licked her throat and then his head lifted. Jane forced her lashes to rise as she stared up at him.

He was still hard inside of her. He’d come, but, like her…

He wants more.

He gazed down at her, not speaking. Jane licked her lips. Her mouth was so dry. Just how much screaming and moaning had she been doing?

He slowly lowered her to the floor and pulled out of her. She gasped at that withdrawal, hating it because…

I wasn’t done.

“Don’t worry, baby,” His voice was a rough rasp that just made her ache more. “I’m not done.”

She couldn’t look away from his gaze.
I can see his darkness. I can feel it all around me.

But…Jane wasn’t scared.

“Turn around,” Aidan ordered.

She turned around, moving to face the bar. A mirror was behind that bar, reflecting her image back to Jane. Her cheeks were flushed, her dark eyes gleamed, and her hair was tousled around her head. She could see her breasts, the pink tips were thrusting forward, still aroused. Still desperate for more.

“Put your hands on the bar.”

Her hands flattened on the bar.

“The vamp in me had you his way.” His voice was so rough. So deep.

The vamp in me…
He’d just admitted what he was. She should say something. Do something—

“Now…” He caught her hair in his hand and pulled it to the side, baring the curve of her right shoulder. He pressed a kiss there and she felt the hot caress of his breath on her skin. “Now it’s the wolf’s turn.”

Her breath hitched. She felt his cock against her ass.

“Lean forward more,” he told her.

She leaned forward. His hand slid around her body and his fingers stroked her breast. She arched into his touch, wanting so much more.

“Spread your legs.”

She did.

“Wider.”

She loved the dark rumble of his voice. Her gaze was on the mirror. On him, on
them,
as he leaned over her.

His hand slid down her body, moving to her sex.

“So ready, soft and slick.” His breath feathered over her once more. “Do you know…what it means when a werewolf marks his lover right…” He kissed the spot where her neck and shoulder met. “Here?”

Jane shook her head. She couldn’t look away from their reflection in that glass. He’d bit her there before. Had that been a marking?

“Biting here means the werewolf has his mate. It’s a claiming. A marking. One that goes far beneath the skin and straight to the soul.”

Jane swallowed. His cock pushed against her. His fingers slid over her clit, stroking her arousal to a fever pitch once again.

“You already have my soul, Jane.” He pressed a kiss to her skin even as his fingers kept stroking, harder now, and Jane rose onto her tip-toes with a gasp. Another climax was building, so close. So—

“You have my soul, my heart, and every fucking bit of darkness in me.” He nipped her. Not a vampire bite. Different. Rougher. A flash of quick pain caught her off-guard. Her eyes widened in shock as she stared at his reflection.

His head lifted and he stared at her in the mirror. A smile—slightly cruel and wolfish—curled his lips. “Can you handle me?
All
of me?”

Before she could answer, his hand slid away from her clit. She was left on the edge of her orgasm, every muscle in her body tight and quivering. “Aidan!”

He lifted up her hips and he drove his cock into her sex, plunged balls deep. Her hands fisted over the bar top. “Can you?” Aidan demanded, voice nearly that of a stranger. Too rough.

She kept staring into the mirror. Staring at him. “I can…” Her breath panted. “I can handle everything you’ve got.”

He smiled.

Then he bit her. No,
marked
her. Because this bite was different. His teeth clamped over the curve of her shoulder as he withdrew, then thrust deep. He took her frantically, driving fast over and over, and Jane wasn’t on the edge of her orgasm any longer. The climax slammed into her, rolling through her whole body and she shuddered again and again.

Her sex contracted around his cock, but he didn’t come, didn’t slow, didn’t stop. If anything, his thrusts became harder. He was growling behind her, rough, animalistic sounds. And when his hands slapped down on the bar near hers—when he caged her there with his body—she saw his claws.

The beast was out. And he was claiming his mate.

Only fair. I’m claiming him, too.

Her hands grabbed his. Locked with his. And Jane was stunned to see claws burst from the tips of her fingers. “Aidan!”

He slammed into her, lifting her up with the force of his thrusts. Her orgasm kept sweeping through her, and every thrust just had the pleasure surging hotter. Her body was so sensitive now, so completely tuned to his.

They were moving together, a rhythm that was too wild and fast but somehow seemed utterly perfect. She wanted that moment to last forever, for the pleasure to never end, but Aidan plunged into her once more, a thrust that took her completely off her feet, and then he roared her name as he came.

This climax hit her harder, sharper, and Jane gasped as her body fell forward. Her head sagged and her drumming heartbeat echoed around her.

She licked her lips, swallowed twice, and finally managed to say, “Aidan?”

He nuzzled her neck.

She stared at their hands. Her claws were gone, his weren’t.

“I love you, Jane.” His voice was still rough, slightly ragged at the edges. But it was definitely the voice of a man, not a beast. “Whatever happens, whatever comes…remember that.”

She lifted their entwined fingers to her mouth and pressed a kiss to the back of his hand. “I love you.” She didn’t like those “whatever happens” sort of talks. They usually meant bad things were coming.

Something so bad that it would tear them apart. Her eyes squeezed shut, as if she could hide from the truth, for just a moment. “Nothing bad is going to happen.” The words slipped from her, almost like a child, trying to fight the dark.

A low laugh rumbled from him. “Oh, sweetheart, don’t you see? I am the bad thing.”

Ice brushed across her heart.

***

Annette sat on the old, dusty floor. Paris was just a few feet away from her, sleeping now, but still chained. Bags of blood—Aidan’s blood—were in the ice chest at her side.

“Uh, Ms. Benoit?” Garrison shifted nervously from foot to foot. “What else can I do to help?”

She glanced at him. “You didn’t attack Paris when you arrived. I figure that’s more than enough help.” And he’d brought the blood back. A definite good deed that she would see he was rewarded for completing. The redheaded wolf had just found his way to her good side, though most folks swore she didn’t actually
have
a good side.