Immortal Heat (The Guardians of Dacia Book 1) (15 page)

Draylon could taste the heady mix of their scents—his salty spice she'd partaken of and the sweet hot breath on her tongue. It should've turned him off but the low animalistic growl answered the need in him, and he devoured her mouth like she'd devoured him only moments ago.

Her soft belly pressed against his cock. He had one hand tangled in her hair as his other found the curve of her breast, petting and stroking until he found the perky tip. He gave it a slight pinch, and she groaned into his mouth. Returning the favor, she reached down and managed to stroke the piece of flesh just under his sac. The shockwaves traveled up his spine to the part of his brain he couldn't control.

All bets were off now—somewhere between the heated kiss and her finger touching such a sensitive area, he managed to kick off the remainder of his clothes. He growled and turned her over on his desk, divesting her of her jeans in one swift yank and tossing them, gods only knew where.

They cleared his desktop, kicking and shoving items out of the way. He held her down and she growled at him. Draylon nuzzled her ear, nipping at it as he maneuvered her onto her knees and pressed her back into a downward position.

Reaching between her thighs, he caressed the tender bridge of flesh. Dampness and her scent coated his finger and he reached beneath her and entered her, testing to see if she was as ready as he was.

She gasped as his finger explored within her. He added another finger, hooking and stretching. She was small, warm and tight. He didn't want to hurt her.

She groaned as he pushed a third digit up into her. Her head went down and she opened for him so he could push in all the way. She wiggled back on his hand, wanting more.

Oh yeah, Draylon…now!

The mental connection was opened.
Oh, trust me. I will.

His other hand reached around her front to press in and downward on the outer wall of her womb until he could feel his fingers working her from the inside. She rode his hand, her inner muscles tightening around him, the tiny spasms of pre-orgasm hitting her.

That's it, baby. Ride it.

The words spewing from her mouth were lewd and hot. He would lose it soon if he didn't do something. But he wouldn't mate with her. He couldn't. There was no way he would let himself go that far. He took himself in hand as he worked her to climax.

Her body bucked and rocked, and she tossed back her hair and turned to look over her shoulder at him. Eyes the color of burning embers seared his soul. She opened her mouth to scream and a hiss of sexual need echoed in the room. Rearing back, he lost the control he held onto so tenaciously, and as her inner muscles clenched around his fingers, his hand pushed himself to the limit. Her climax set him off, sending bursts of heat and fire through him. His body shifted between wolf, his true Zmeu form and that of a man losing his fucking mind as he bathed the small of her back with his seed.

#

Draylon waited. Lying against her body as their breathing returned to normal, he had gathered enough function to morph back into his human form. There would be the aftermath of what had just transpired to deal with.

No woman had the mental capacity to withstand his sudden metamorphosis when he was at full sexual peak. The traumatic experience was too much for them once they came down off of their sensual high. It was the main reason he didn't allow himself to get involved with women on a regular basis. The pain of watching someone he'd become attached to go through the horror of knowing what he was…it was too much for him to bear. He'd had to wipe their memories of any contact with him to keep them from becoming mentally unstable.

He wouldn't risk it with Marilyn. Before she could recover her mental capabilities after their arduous act, he slipped into her psyche and demanded she forget all that had happened—since they'd met. No use trying to figure out vampires, witches and the dragon-like creature he'd turned into while having sex with her. Screw Rick and his lack of decisions. She would return home, none the wiser.

Dressing himself, he lifted a naked, semi-conscience Marilyn Reddlin in his arms. Her body lolled like dead weight, but he managed to pull the throw from the chaise lounge in the corner and cover her enough to get things rolling.

Hitting the intercom system with his elbow, he waited for Donovan's voice.

"How may I help you, Draylon?"

"I need you to have the jet prepared for a flight to the United States, immediately. We're taking Miss Reddlin home."

#

Diane Reddlin held up her cell phone in a futile attempt at getting any signal. She should know better, and she did. Spreading the map she'd picked up at the local sporting goods hut near the Hoia Forest on the nearest boulder, she took a look at where she was. Thank God her folks had insisted on her being in Girl Scouts. Her leader had been an avid camper and hiker, teaching the girls survival skills in the forests. Ms. Martz would be pissed with her though. She was out here alone and should never hike without the buddy system.

Her daughter's last triangulated cell phone call had been from Cluj-Napoca, Romania, near the airport. But according to the local polizi, it could be anywhere in a ten mile radius. Not only that, it had been a week since they'd lost contact. Marilyn could be dead. Her daughter had come here to work with Professor Aiden Vamier, but she couldn't get in touch with him. The dean of the university told her there had been no record of Marilyn even checking in for the semester.

That only left one other place she may have ventured, The Hoia Forest. It was the last known location they had on Marilyn's father, Richard.

If her coordinates were correct, she should be making some sort of headway. But after awhile every odd crooked tree and rocky outcrop looked the same. She took off her yellow bandana and tore it into strips. Tying pieces of the cloth onto the nearest branches would keep her from going in circles.

Taking a swig of her bottled water, she recapped it and placed it back in the netted pocket of her backpack. With a last look at the map and compass she made her decision to go further into the woods. Folding the map, she placed it back in her front pouch along with the compass and sally-forthed, hoping to find some signs of her daughter.

After about a half an hour she'd made it to a barren, circular field. There wasn't a single iota of green growth or snow. The trees around the circle avoided the area at all cost, bending and arching away from the dead spot as if touching it or growing near it would destroy them. Something prickled the back of her neck as if she were being watched. Looking around, there was nobody she could see. The open space between the trees revealed no other vegetation to block or hide any possible attackers.

This had to be the strangest forest she'd ever encountered. No birds, no animals or even small rodent-like creatures flitting about. There wasn't any undergrowth or dead leaves carpeting the floor. Diane had to document this. Reaching for her small digital camera she took a shot. Nothing happened. Trying again, she realized her batteries must be dead.

Taking out her cell phone, she went to take a picture and it too was completely dead. Only a half an hour ago she had full power. She made sure she'd charged her phone the night before along with her rechargeable batteries for her camera and emergency use.

Sighing, Diane looked at her watch—sonofabitch! Her watch had also stopped working at nine forty-five. By the looks of the sun's position, it was nearing midday.

Adjusting the weight of her pack, she stopped from crossing the open area as a low, menacing growl echoed behind her. Diane wasn't going to move fast anytime soon. She stood rock still and waited. Perhaps whatever made the sound would realize she wasn't a threat and move on. The rustling of weeds and brush and another growl had her lips moving in silent prayer.

Rapid human language followed. Even though Diane was fluent in seven different languages, she wasn't sure what nationality this came from, but it sounded angry. Hopefully it was scolding the animal.

An old crone of a woman, stooped over with age, walked around to face her. Beady black eyes were set into a weathered face etched with deep wrinkles. Gray strands of hair peeked out from her woolen scarf wrapped around her head. She leaned in, peering at Diane as if she needed to be up close to see someone.

The growling commenced and the woman looked down at two large wolves, their mouths snarling, exposing dangerous looking teeth. She tapped the one on his nose, scolding him in her language and then turned on the other one, shaking her walking stick at him. They both sat on their haunches, their tongues lolling out of their mouths.

The old woman yelled at her. Diane backed away, holding up her hands in surrender as the woman before her ranted and raged.

"I'm sorry. I don't speak your language."

The woman stopped, peered at her again, her brows twitching, creasing her weathered face even more. She turned and walked away, the wolves following her.

Stunned, Diane wasn't sure what just happened.

Not wanting to move and upset either the wolves or the old lady, Diane contemplated moving forward. Cautiously taking that step, she wasn't sure how anything was going to go right now, but she wasn't letting her fear keep her from finding Marilyn. "I'm looking for my daughter. Can you help me?" She spoke slowly, not knowing if the woman even understood her.

The old woman stopped but didn't turn around. She held up her gnarled hand and stretched a bony finger out before hooking it to indicate Diane should follow.

Chapter Ten

Mid-January—Frederick, Maryland

Marilyn didn't understand anything. According to everyone she'd talked to she'd never left Maryland. She'd been deathly ill for a few weeks after Christmas break, unable to go back to work. Nothing proved otherwise.

Her mother was in Europe on business but there was no contact from her. Something was definitely wrong with the whole picture. Her mother never left the state, much less the country.

"I don't know what you're looking for." Tina Johnston sat on the couch with a bowl of ice cream, still wearing her uniform lab coat from the blood bank.

Defeated, Marilyn slumped in her comfy desk chair, gazing distractedly out the window. "I'm not sure either."

Her friend had recently moved in with her until she could find her own place. Having been reassigned from the Baltimore blood bank headquarters to the blood bank here in Frederick, Marilyn didn't remember her moving in and oddly enough, Tina couldn't remember all the details of her move either.

"Do you want to go through your story again? Maybe there's something you left out?"

She knew Tina placated her. What she could remember, or thought she remembered, were nothing but fevered dreams from her illness, according to Dr. Jon Johnston and the rest of the medical team who'd worked on her at Livedel's private medical facility.

"Have you found your phone yet?"

"No. I told you the guy tossed it out the window of the car as we were being chased." She sighed.

"Any luck on tracking down this character?"

"No." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "No clue where to even look." Unless the random dreams she had at night of him were any clue. "I can't even describe him to you. If I was an artist I wouldn't be able to capture—"

"Hey, I hear it's natural to fantasize about a man. Especially after what Daniel put you through. Do you think there's a connection?"

"No, no and no." Pushing away from her desk Marilyn jumped up and paced. Days of agitation and frustration, trying to make sense of her memories and lack thereof had her reaching maximum stress levels. If she didn't get out of the apartment now, she'd go mad, or madder than she was. She needed to run free. "I need to go for a run."

"Why?" Tina looked at her over her spoonful of vanilla bean ice cream. "You don't run."

"Don't tell me what I don't do! Tell me what I am now." She grabbed the framed photo of the two of them at Christmas time off of her desk. "Is this me now?" Marilyn shoved it in her friend's face.

"You were sick. You'd lost so much weight and your iron and vitamin D levels were depleted, Marilyn. You'd let yourself go after the disaster you'd suffered with Daniel. He really did a number on you."

"No…" She shook her head.

Tina was wrong. Everyone was wrong. Nothing was right. Her muscles ached to explode. Jon told her it was residual aches and pains. She doubted him. She doubted everyone…she doubted herself.

"I'm heading out."

"It's after ten o'clock at night."

But Marilyn didn't care. She needed to be wild.

#

Living a few blocks from Baker Park, she figured that would be a good place to run. She didn't care if the park was closed after ten. Surely people still jogged after hours. The lobby of the old Francis Scott Key Hotel where she lived was softly lit. The 1920's décor soothed her most of the time, but not now.

She'd loved the old place and how they'd renovated it into modern apartments. They were in the mod section of town where the theater district met the local downtown cultured restaurants and antique shops. The Carroll Creek Promenade held a flare for cosmopolitan night life and summer time entertainment, but in the middle of winter, the empty streets were filled with nothing more than an array of colonial street lights and the occasional couple returning from a mid-week date night.