Claimed by the Mate, Volume 1 (35 page)

In the end, she'd simply smiled at Channing and the oddly familial bond she'd felt with him instead of the intensely sexual one she'd felt with Blaez. That's when she'd asked about books or anything she could do to pass the time here. What she really wanted was to see other parts of the lodge to confirm for herself that there was no way out of this fortress.

“If you like to read we have quite a library,” Channing had told her. “I love books. Blaez has a thirst for knowledge too, but other than his personal collection of books, he prefers his computers for research purposes. Malec, of course, favors the gym and Phelan, well, he doesn't like much at all.” Channing had followed that up with a chuckle, but Kira suspected that fact was a little more troubling to him than he let on.

“I love to read. My mother always read poetry to me. I prefer mysteries myself,” she admitted, then clapped her lips shut, hating that she'd said those words to anyone. It was odd talking to Channing as if they were actually friends, as the members of her father's pack only saw her as an object to be claimed, especially in the last few months.

Channing had shown her to the library and left her alone there, trusting her, she thought initially. A few seconds later she realized the trust wasn't necessary, since she'd likely set off a million alarms if she so much as cracked a window in this place. Not that she was even paying attention to the large windows with the same tinted glass that she'd seen in the gym. No, Kira was much more fascinated by the gleaming wood floors and bookcases that matched, reaching up to the ceiling. There were aisles just like in the university library she remembered studying in for the past couple of years. Yet this place had a more elegant touch, curving corners that led to even more books in a room that she'd had no idea was as large as it turned out to be.

By the time she'd made it to the other end, she'd passed through the room's center where four leather couches sat facing one another, a huge area rug covering the floor beneath them. There was also a fireplace nestled deep into the back wall surrounded by an intricate rock design. As gorgeous as it all was, Kira found herself going farther, to the end of the room, to a section of books that look terribly old and for some odd reason appeared the most interesting.

There were leather chairs in this part of the room as well, single high-backed ones the color of rich caramel. Reaching out, she let her fingers brush lightly over the tattered spines of a couple books, stopping as if by no control of her own on one. The name TREKAS was printed in letters so worn she could barely see them all. Kira pulled that one from the shelf without a moment's hesitation. Before opening it, as if knowing already that this was going to take some time, she'd backed up until she sank into one of those high-backed chairs.

The book was clearly old, so she'd had to turn the pages slowly to keep from ripping them. A couple of those pages were written completely in Greek, which she found only a bit odd, and she wondered what else could surprise her in this place. Her mother had tried to teach her to read in Greek. But Penn hadn't thought it was necessary, so the lessons hadn't gotten very far. Names that appeared early on in the book were familiar as she remembered her mother telling her the story of the lycan origination when she was just a little girl. But as she continued to read the story changed, switching, she thought, to Nyktimos's point of view as he explained why he'd come to the states and fallen in love with a human. A woman whom he'd been unexplainably drawn to; one who made everything he'd thought he believed in “fall to ashes on the ground” was what he'd said.

Kira's heart beat faster as she watched the love story unfold, saw Nyktimos's ultimate mistake, and felt his broken heart as if it were her own. She read about the sons who had been born to him through his wife before she'd taken her own life and how those sons had sons, continuing the pure bloodline until it came to Alec Trekas and his three sons: Cabe, Blaez, and Ryer.

“Hey there, bookworm, you've been in here all day. I left you some dinner in the microwave, since I'm sure you're beyond starved right now.”

Kira looked up, her neck aching from having been in the position of staring down into that book for so long. It was darker in the library then it had been when she'd come in, and as Channing's words had registered in her mind she'd looked to the windows to see that night had already fallen.

“He's a Trekas, isn't he? My father's pack are trained to hunt anyone from the Trekas family. You don't just think I'm here to kill your pack; you think I'm hunting him,” she said slowly, the realization of where she was and whom she was with finally hitting her full force.

Channing stared at her a moment before speaking, leaning against one of the bookshelves. “Are you saying you didn't know who he was? Is that what you want us to believe?”

If that was the case Channing certainly wasn't buying it. “It's the truth,” she replied vehemently. “I left my pack and was headed to the Midwest. My mother had some family there, but I got sidetracked,” she said, not wanting to admit the still-unnamable force that had changed her route so that she'd ended up in those woods where Blaez had found her—similar to the way Nyktimos had described feeling about the human he'd fallen in love with. “I wasn't looking for him,” she said, a shiver snaking down her spine.

Channing shrugged. “The Hunters want him dead. That's not something Blaez takes lightly.”

“He doesn't take anything lightly,” she whispered, thinking of Blaez's intensity, of the serious and almost dour personality he possessed. She'd originally seen that as just another trait to dislike about him; now she realized by his birthright that it might be warranted.

“He's in a precarious position,” Channing told her.

Closing the book and letting it sit in her lap, Kira shook her head. “I know how that feels.”

“Maybe the two of you have more in common then you thought,” he said.

“I doubt that Blaez's family chased him away,” she said, then went silent, looking away from Channing's inquisitive gaze. “Anyway, what does he plan to do with me? Am I now going to be part of some revenge plot?” Kira just couldn't believe it. What were the odds that of all the lycans in all this world, she would walk right into the path of this one, landing in his arms … and liking it way more than she was ready to admit?

Pushing himself away from the shelf, Channing leaned forward, slipping the book from her lap before saying, “You should have dinner and get some rest. I hear there's more training for you tomorrow.”

For the billionth time today Kira had felt embarrassed, now wondering if Channing had any idea what type of training Blaez had taken her through this morning before breakfast. It was a good thing Channing had walked out—carrying that book with him—that at least had saved her a little bit of pride. But now she couldn't ask the questions flitting around in her mind.

On Channing's instructions, she'd stopped in the kitchen on her way back to her bedroom, and had been pleased to find a meatball sub drenched in provolone cheese, baby carrots and celery sticks on the side of the plate that had been covered with a plastic lid and sitting in the microwave. The bright green sticky note that read: “For Kira. Eat Me.” was what caught her attention, and she'd smiled at Channing's thoughtfulness.

She'd eaten the carrots, which she suspected were actually Malec's idea after she'd heard him talk relentlessly about physical fitness and healthy eating during breakfast. Celery was just not tasty to her and so she'd left that alone and enjoyed the sub after she'd reheated it. The hot shower that followed her meal felt heavenly in the bathroom that looked as if it were meant to be in a five-star hotel, instead of this rustic lodge. She was beginning to think “rustic chic” was a better description of this place.

Now she was in bed, but she'd feared sleep would not come. Greek words replayed in her mind, the story of Nyktimos and the love of his life, the mate he felt he'd been bound to find but too cursed to keep. But sleep did come and with it a dream that felt so real, so deliciously tangible, Kira had wanted to scream.

The wolf had pushed open the door to her bedroom, its large head, the first she saw of it, held high. With a majestic gait, it entered just as if she'd invited it or, no, rather as if it belonged.

On the bed she sat up, noting how thin the nightshirt she wore was when a breeze coming in from the hallway chilled her until she shivered. She felt her nipples growing hard and crossed her arms to cover them. The wolf, with its piercing sapphire blue eyes, zoomed directly in on her, turned then, using its muzzle in a sideways motion to push the door closed.

It walked around to the side of the bed, its very movement speaking of power and dominance. With every quiet step of its paws over the carpeted floor Kira's gaze remained transfixed. She'd never seen a wolf this close up before. A lycan—a human who through a bite or scratch from another lycan possessed the ability to take on wolf-like characteristics and powers—yes, but not a full-grown wolf, such as this. She thought about this fact and vaguely remembered something she'd seen in one of those Greek books in the library. Among its differences and perhaps the most intriguing point of all was the immediate connection she felt to this wolf. As if she'd seen or communicated with it before.

Pausing only momentarily to look at her from a closer range, the wolf turned, going to the other side of the bed, repeating the same action. Kira inhaled deeply, the wolf's very primal and earthy scent permeating her senses, inciting every sexual spark in her body until she felt like a firecracker, fizzing and sparking waiting until the final pop. She jerked with that thought, her thighs shaking, pussy throbbing. Grabbing the sheets, she made sure they covered her legs, tucking them between her thighs and squeezing tightly to assuage the need growing there.

The wolf moved again to the end of the bed, its cheeks lifting slightly as it bared its teeth. Kira sucked in a breath, still staring because it was next to impossible to tear her gaze away. When the wolf lunged forward grabbing the sheets and ripping them from the bed she let out a yelp and scooted back on the bed, grabbing a pillow—as if that were actually going to provide protection—and placing it in front of her.

In the next moment the beautiful gray and white wolf had shed its glorious pelt, the four legs shifting in a blur to form arms and legs, all muscles rippling as they stood and stretched. The body of the wolf had also changed to that of a man … one hell of a fine-ass specimen of a man. Every part of him looked chiseled as if some deity had taken not just a day or two but possibly months to design every inch of its perfection. From his narrow waist to the wide splayed shoulders, back down again to the contoured thighs and very pleasantly endowed—possibly too much—cock that jutted forward with full-on arousal.

Kira swallowed, her gaze fixated there, mind soaring with the possibilities. It wasn't until the man knelt on the bed, crawling across the mattress toward her, did she venture to look at his face, the carefully sculpted jaw, thin nose, medium-thickness lips, and those eyes. They remained the piercing blue searing through her as if they possessed X-ray vision, making her shake with vulnerability. All lycans had blue eyes in their shifted form, but none like this. Kira was certain she'd never seen eyes this brilliant and alluring before.

“Blaez.” His name came on a whisper, her fingers shaking as she grasped the pillow tighter.

“Don't hide from me,” he said, his voice deep, clear, dominant.

He pulled the pillow away and still on his hands and knees lowered his head to nuzzle between her breasts. The thin material of her nightshirt stuck to her body as she arched upward, loving the feel of his warm breath against her skin. Falling back, Kira braced herself on her elbows, her mouth opening with a gasp, eyes still fixated on the top of Blaez's bald head. He moved lower, rubbing his cheeks, one and then the other, his lips, his forehead, over her torso, her abdomen, and farther down until she was panting with anticipation.

His hands abruptly grabbed her thighs, spreading her legs wide, lifting her until her ass was up off the mattress, her weight supported partially by his strong hands. She was completely available to him, her pussy open, wet, and waiting and him staring down hungrily as if he'd known he would end up here all along.

Those eyes, piercing and hypnotic, as blue as a jewel, found hers again as he looked up and whispered, “Mine.”

Kira didn't know what to say or do. Her fingers were clenching the sheets as if they were her new lifeline, her thighs quivering in his hands, breasts tingling with the rush of arousal. When his tongue extended, long and thick, curving slightly at the tip like a ladle, Kira shivered. He licked her then, from her dripping wet center up excruciatingly slowly to the hood of her clit where the tip of his tongue made a swirling motion that drove her wild. He repeated that action again and again, taking turns looking up at her, then down at her pussy. He could see the throbbing of her vulva lips, lapped up each drop of her essence that dripped incessantly. She gasped each time the pad of his soft tongue touched her awaiting heat. Her breasts jiggled with each tremor coursing up and down her spine. She wanted more, so much more, and she wanted it right now!

“Once I claim you there's no turning back,” Blaez said seconds before thrusting his tongue deep inside her, lapping up every drop of her release as it racked through her body like a violent storm.

She'd barely caught her breath, teeth were still biting into her lower lip, hands pulling the sheets completely from the mattress, when he pulled back, moving closer so that the bulbous tip of his dick, dripping with a thick white drop of his arousal, was now aimed at the entrance his tongue had just left weeping. Her eyes fluttered open, once again finding his magnetic gaze.