Pleasure Cruise (25 page)
Authors: Michelle M. Pillow,Mandy M. Roth
They were an ancient people, their race as old as the human society, growing with the humans from a time when mortals knew of all the supernatural races. They used to be hunted, condemned as evil by the church. Sure, times were wilder in the early days, but so it was with all the races—mortal and supernatural. Just as humans no longer roamed the countryside pillaging and wielding swords, so did his people no longer wildly wield tooth and fang.
Now humans denied their existence, which suited most of them just fine. Occasionally, lines would be blurred and mortals would be turned. Lycans were lusty creatures after all, craving both blood and sex. Circumstances had to be right, the bloodline perfect, the moon full, for the bite to take effect. It was against the law to turn mortals. A lycan could attack fifty humans and only one would possibly start to turn, so if one was turned the odds were that lycan had attacked many before the changed one. Even then, it didn’t guarantee they’d make it through the horrifically painful process. It’s why his kind didn’t mate with humans. Sure, they slept with them, dated them, some even spent lifetimes with them, but they didn’t mate with them, not for all eternity. Only other immortal supernaturals were suitable lifemates. Too many lycans had seen their loved ones die as they tried to turn them. It was a painful memory that would be carried into eternity. For, if not murdered, the lycan would live forever.
Ian’s brother helped to track down the rogue wolves who feasted on mortals, those who broke their laws—meager laws as they were. James was especially good at helping the newly turned to cope with their new gifts. He had a delicate way about him that the young ones responded to. Luckily, it had been many years since James’ skill was called upon. The clan had been peaceful for the most part.
Thinking of feasting and sex, Ian looked at Meghan.
“I will gladly pursue her if she is too much lycan for you,” Roark offered when Meghan pouted her lips at Ian for not coming to her as she beckoned him to do.
“Ah, you have no chance with that. She only parts her thighs for Ian. Her pussy is too refined for the likes of us,” James grumbled. “You better watch yourself, brother, or you’ll find yourself married to Meghan yet.”
Ian raised a brow at his brother’s distemper. It was no secret that James didn’t like the woman. Sure, he’d fuck her if she offered—just like any of the males would—but he wouldn’t like her as he was doing it.
“Relax,” Ian said, laughing softly at James’ suddenly foul mood.
“I’ll relax when you cast her aside,” James said. “That woman is too hungry for power—your power. I would not bow to her as my queen. Her heart is not pure and it definitely does not love you, just your future crown. I have no doubt that she would kill our father for the right to rule the clan.”
“It’s just sex, James,” Ian assured him. It wasn’t the first time he had done so. “Meghan knows that I do not love her as I have told her before.”
“Then why bother?” Roark asked. “Take Brona or Dana. With the O’Connell charm I am sure they’d be most willing to bed you.”
“Brona?” Ian shivered. “She’s just now a century, merely a babe.”
“And Dana’s father is too protective of her,” James said. “I would not have her father causing us trouble.”
“Then how about Deirdre from the Macintyres? Or Padraigin MacConchobhair?” Roark offered, grinning in private thought.
“Padra?” James said. “Yes, she would make a fine choice.”
Ian lifted a brow. “Play matchmaker with each other. I have an itch that I want Meghan to suck.”
“I believe the word is scratch,” Roark offered helpfully with a flip of his hair.
“Oh, she does that too.” Ian winked, thrusting his mug over to James.
“But why her?” James protested.
Ian grinned. “Just look at her breasts.”
Roark howled, James rolled his eyes and Ian made a move toward the sexy lycan in question. James didn’t have to like Meghan. She was in Ian’s bed, not his brother’s. And the woman did enjoy sex—oral, anal, in any position he could bend her in. Why shouldn’t he go to her?
When were you born?
Ian paused in mid-prowl. His head twitched to the side, listening past the fiddles and the flames, stretching out over the ocean waves. That voice. It was clearer now, not like before. It was as if he was hearing her for the first time.
Your name?
Ian tensed. He’d never caught her name, but part of him called out with his mind, hoping to give a name to the memory.
Who are you? Please. Answer me. Ask me again!
“Mmm, Your Royal Highness, why you gotta make a girl beg for it?”
Ian looked down as Meghan slid next to him. He hated when she called him “your royal highness” and such. It was only a reminder that she saw his title and his cock, not the man beneath both. But who was he to be picky when he was aroused and she was willing? Her nipples were already hard as they hit his chest. She rubbed her bikini-clad chest along his, until he could feel the buds though the thin material of his crimson sweater.
“Oh, Majesty, you seem to have an affliction. Come with me and let me tend to you.” Flames glinted off her jet-black locks as she ran her hand down his chest to his stiff, protruding mass of flesh. Grasping his cock, her breathing deepened. Her eyes flashed completely golden. “You want to play tonight, don’t you? I can feel the wolf starting to expand inside your pants. Come with me. Let me attend you, my prince. I will let you unleash the wolf tonight. I will let you take me as the beast.”
Ian’s nostrils flared. Meghan’s feminine scent was strong and he knew her to be so wet that her bikini bottoms would be soaked with her cream. His body was willing, but his spirit was holding back. A feeling of mild disgust curled in him and he couldn’t figure out why tonight, out of so many, he should find Meghan mildly repulsive.
Was it James’ words? Was he tired of Meghan?
Tell me, when were you born?
No, it was her. He was sure he’d heard it that time. It couldn’t be his imagination. Not again. She was human, he’d sensed it on her. But then how did she live so many years?
“Mmm,” Meghan giggled, moving to wrap her arms around his neck. Ian grabbed her arms, stopping her. His eyes darted into the darkness, straining to see over the endless blue-black waves. The sun set completely, the edge of its golden purple light giving way to the blue of moonlit darkness. His body was tense, ready to run, to shift if he had to use more of his abilities.
The sea called to him and the moonlight shot into his skin, burning him. Sounds invaded him, becoming so loud he couldn’t hear past the undulation of the waves, the faint sound of sand shifting over the beach with each powerful hit of the ocean. The sound of droplets spraying over the air became clear to him, like the tingling of ice in a glass. Ian tensed, waiting to hear it again, to hear her. The woman. His woman.
This can’t be a dream.
“Ian?” Meghan gasped, confusion in her tone.
Ian pushed her back, irritated that she dared to enter his head with her voice. She stumbled and he instantly felt sorry, but he was too afraid to take his concentration off the distance.
“Ian!” Meghan demanded, her tone a hiss of breath as she growled at him in warning.
“You’re not the one I want,” he said, absently, not paying attention to the woman. The subtle sound of laughter rang all around him, distorted like a bad hallucination. In the distance he heard James and Roark above all others. He shut them out, again waiting for the water to give him its secrets.
Do you play tricks on me, ocean? Why do you call me to your depths? She cannot be there. She cannot.
A sensation washed over him. It was a strange feeling, but one he had known before. The urge was mindlessly beckoning him into the depths of the water. It had been the same that night he had almost died. The sea called him to her and he’d gone willingly into the murky waters only to be sucked in by the current. This time he held back. He was stronger now, could resist the call.
He could resist.
Ian slowly began walking.
“You will not disregard me!” Meghan roared, leaping up. The hot-tempered lycan female lunged for him. Without thought, Ian lifted his arm and grabbed her mid-strike and threw her to the ground behind him. Meghan grunted, but he knew she wasn’t hurt. It would take more than a little roughhousing to hurt her. No, if anything, Meghan’s pride was the only thing bruised by him this night.
Meghan’s scream turned into a loud roar of anger. He glanced behind to see her bikini on the ground and the dark, furry silhouette of her shifted form running into the darkness. Her paws kicked up sand. The woman was angry, but he could deal with her later. James was right. It was time he called off any sexual relationship with Meghan. By attacking him openly, she had overstepped her bounds. He had no desire to punish her for it, but her insubordination could not be allowed.
Ian could not be weak.
And still, he kept walking, strongly drawn to the sea.
“Ian?” James called.
Ian managed to lift his hand.
“More for us!” Roark’s voice rose up, inciting boisterous cheers. Ian appreciated his brothers, knowing instinctively that they were drawing attention away from him and giving him time alone—as they assumed he so obviously wanted. No doubt James would gladly give him an eternity alone for opening rejecting Meghan.
Ian began to jog, following his gut instincts along the shore. The water hit his feet, so icy cold. It was a shock to his warmer blood, but he didn’t care. He kept going.
Where are you? Where are you?
His mind called out to her. He felt her now. It had to be her. He got the same feeling moments before the ocean pulled him. Ian slowed, changing directions in the water. His knees rose high as he marched away from shore. The water sloshed over his waist until his legs no longer surfaced with each step. His arms swayed, scooping the water as if he could get away from the sandy beach all the faster.
A wave hit him, knocking him down as the sea swallowed him into its depths. The current pulled his body, washing him into the darkness. Reality hit him and he started to struggle. But even with his lycan strength, he could not beat the will of the ocean. Each punch, every kick only shifted the water. He was drowning.
End Excerpt
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