Tempting Whispers: The Kategan Alphas 6 (4 page)

Simple enough. The eggs were perfect,
just a hint of salt and pepper and scrambled just the way she liked. The toast
was buttered and the bacon sliced thick and cooked to a crisp. She finished
half her plate in a whirl of moans and gulps before she lifted her head to spot
him staring at her with a strange look in his eyes. Was it warmth, hunger, or
something else entirely? God, she hoped it was either of the first two. She
fidgeted under his stare, fighting another blush. “Why do you keep fresh food
here when you don't eat?”

“I have a lykaen maid who cleans the
place and once a week she shops, then either throws out or takes home any food
that wasn’t used. Needless to say, she usually shops for foods she likes to
eat.”

Vanessa chuckled. The food made her
belly happy and her muscles warm. For the first time in weeks, she was finally
starting to feel safe. When Brayden took the bar seat next to her, everything
went on alert. He leaned forward on the island, his elbows resting on it, his
hands folded together. His eyes watched her. If she leaned forward, they’d only
been two feet apart. Close enough that she could wrap an arm around his neck
and pull him close...feel those lips across hers.

She realized she was staring at his lips
and quickly looked into his eyes. His were leveled right on her. Damn, he
probably saw her eye-humping his mouth. “Why do you keep looking at me?” It was
almost unnerving with those bright eyes. And she needed to say something to get
around the fact that she’d been staring at his mouth, wondering what it’d feel
like.

He quickly turned his head and she
watched his jaw flex, just a slight bulging of the hard bone. That gave her
pause. Had he not realized he’d been watching her like a hawk this whole time?
Had he seen her staring at his lips like it was her next meal? Or had she just
pissed him off? With him, she couldn’t tell one from the other.

“I wasn’t.” He stood and began scrubbing
the dirty skillets and bowl at the sink.

Vanessa didn’t know what to make of him
or his actions. Maybe he was just a weirdo who didn’t have many friends, then,
thrown next to her, he just didn’t know how to act normal. Her eyes traced over
his back and further down. Even in casual clothes, he dressed nicer than she
did. He wore a pair of soft-looking loose khaki pants and a loose shirt that
reminded her of something a golfer would wear. The thought sent a giggle
through her. The water shut off and he turned to stare at her, his brow furrowed
into a vee.

“What is it?”

She pictured him taking a golf swing. Maybe
it was because he was so tall, or built, or that he looked like he belonged in
metal armor with a lance and horse, but she busted out laughing at the image.
He gave her a look that said her laughter clearly made him unhappy, then took
her empty plate with a snap of his wrist and washed it. By time he finished,
she had the laughter down to a soft chuckle.

“God that felt good. I haven’t laughed
like that in...a long time.”

“Okay, now you talk. I want all of it.”
Brayden leaned against the dark granite countertops and crossed his arms.

Vanessa couldn’t keep her eyes from
tracing the hard muscles in his forearms, the sable dusting of hair across his
tanned skin, or the way his biceps flexed and tightened when he stood like
that. A flutter of pleasure swept through her body, making her breasts ache,
but only for a flash of a second. Then the desire faded. She wasn’t stupid; she
knew sex didn’t always have to be as it had been for her. She knew it could be
good, maybe even beautiful or emotional.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” His
hard voice cut into her thoughts like a hatchet.

Her lips twitched, caught between
wanting to speak the truth and being afraid to. Her eyes met his, and again,
that safe, comforting feeling came over her like a warm blanket. These weren’t
the eyes of someone who hated her, who’d hurt her. These were the eyes of a
real man, a protector. He’d proven that to her before.

Her voice calm and low, replied, “I was
looking at you like that, because I was thinking of what it would be like to
make love with someone and it would actually feel good.”

His face flew through a flurry of expressions
before settling on stoic. “What?”

The old her poked her head up and she
grinned. “Do you want me to say it again, Brayden?”

His eyes closed, and he shook his head. “No,
no. Just talk, will you?”

She did. She told him about her father
coming to get her from Vane’s two years ago and how she was mated off to Joseph
Harrington within the next month. So much for her pleas and cries to her
father. He’d ignored her. After all, it was ‘best for the pack.’ It didn’t
matter that she’d wanted to go to college to study nursing. She’d had her eyes
lined up in the medical field for a long time. She wanted to help people, and
maybe she could even become a pack healer, but with some updated modes of
treatment. So many packs like the Kategans’ still used old medicine. And not
that those practices didn’t work, but they weren’t as efficient as modern-day
medicine. She’d wanted to explore that, be the first to bring better medical
practices to her pack. But no, no. What was more important, at least, according
to her father, was combining the packs for more land. Everyone could have
bigger houses, more space, yadda yadda.

Brayden listened to her story without
interrupting, unless to ask her to clarify some details. However, when she got
to the part of the forced marriage—the forced marital sex—an entirely
frightening look came over him. She even surprised herself at how easily the
words came. She had a feeling that if she were having this same conversation
with Vane or any of the other Kategans, she wouldn’t be able to get the words
out. But, Brayden wasn’t family; he was just a man, and maybe one who could
help her.

She trembled beneath his glare,
remembering a time when she’d seen that look before. When she’d been naked and
frightened, kidnapped by Claude Phelan’s clan members. They’d almost raped her
then, had torn her clothes off her body and laughed at her, freely groping and
touching how they wanted while on the run. She’d thought that had been
bad...until she wed Joseph.

The look on Brayden’s face was the look
he’d had after he’d killed her kidnappers with his bare hands. His eyes were widened
a hair, more alert, and inside they were cold with frighteningly controlled
anger. His top lip was pulled up into something close to a snarl and his hands
had dropped to his sides and curled into fists so tight no air could pass
through them.

Vanessa stood slowly, feeling like she
was approaching an animal about to tear fang and claw through any and
everything in its path—even her.

“Brayden...” She put one foot in front
of the other, slowly making her way toward him. His eyes never met hers. They
stayed trained on the far wall, unseeing but locked in that cold angry haze.
Her every muscle vibrated with tension; ready to bolt, dive, or duck, in case
he made a move toward her. She stopped a few feet away from him and started to
raise a hand to touch him before she let it drop back down, her own fear not
letting her go through with it. So she tried again. “Brayden, are you okay?”

He blinked; his head shook once. Then
his eyes landed on hers, the cold frigidity melting as he looked at her until
his gray eyes relaxed, almost warmed. “Sorry; I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

He just looked at her, then shook his
head once. “Nothing important. So, you want a divorce.”

“More than anything,” she said with a
sigh. She never wanted to go back to that man. She’d sooner take her life then
let that bastard lay a finger on her, or a fist, rather. He made her feel weak;
and with him, she had no control of her life. A bitter taste filled her mouth.
She’d never had control over her own life. Not since her mom left.

“He’s not going sit idly by, either. I’m
property to him.”

His eyes flicked down her body for a
mere second, then returned to her eyes, his brows pinching forward. “I see. You
can’t get a divorce without his signature on those divorce papers. I’ll need to
talk to him.”

“What?” The room spun in a sharp circle.
The floor dipped out from beneath her feet so fast, she couldn’t be sure she
didn’t fall down.

“I’ll arrange a meeting with him. I’ll
act as Justicar and see if we can come to an arrangement.”

She laughed a sick, hoarse sound. “He
won’t come to any arrangement. He wants me back in his house, obeying his every
command. He won’t agree.” She could feel it. His hands on her breasts,
squeezing and touching her. Her stomach convulsed; the yummy meal she’d eaten
turning into something vile.

Brayden frowned. “Then what’s your plan,
Vanessa? Work at the coffee shop and keep on the run forever? How can you
support yourself? If he finds you, and he very well might, what will you do
then? Where will you go?”

Tears threatened to escape her eyes. He
voiced all the same questions and fears she’d had since she escaped nearly a
month ago. Once again, she felt like a stupid teenaged girl standing before the
handsome vampire with shaking fists. “I’ll think of something. I’ll do whatever
it takes.” She thought of the pocketknife in her satchel upstairs and knew she’d
use it on him. He would
not
touch her again.

“It’s not like you can return to Vane’s
place, either. He can’t lawfully keep you there, even if he wanted to. That’s
probably the first place Joseph will look.”

She angrily swiped at a runaway tear.
She hadn’t thought about that. God, he could be there right now and then
everyone is going to be worried about her, and she couldn’t call and tell them
she was fine. They’ll push to learn where she is and she might just give in.
She couldn’t do it.

“You can help me,” she said.

Brayden paced the length of the kitchen
before turning back to face her. Lines appeared around his eyes, his jaw looking
harder, clenched. An almost frightening look was in his eyes.

“I have a job to do. I made a promise to
Vane and Sarina---”

“About me?”

He paced again. “What? No, it has
nothing to do with you.”

Somehow, that made her feel deflated
like a flat tire. “Of course, it doesn’t.”

“You can’t do this on your own,” he was
saying. She heard parts of words at his rant, but she tuned it out, her eyes
focusing on the white paint of the walls. Her body felt strung so tight that if
someone just poked her, she’d explode from the skin. Her head pounded with a
heavy weight. Her neck muscles bunched hard, reverberating that pain down to
her shoulders and lower back until everything hurt, everything throbbed. “You
need to go to your father.” His words registered through the fog in her mind
slowly.

Her eyes wavered to his pacing body and
she frowned. “Dad doesn’t care; he never did, or he wouldn’t have given me to
Joseph.”

Brayden acted as if he didn’t hear her.
He spoke in quick, agitated tones. “If I recall, according to law, you can get
a divorce if the originator of the agreement now finds it void, which would be
your father. It’s either that or Joseph agrees to the divorce, or you live out
your days running and hoping he gives up on you.”

“None of those things are going to
happen,” she said over him. Still, he ignored her and paced back and forth,
muttering to himself as he idly rubbed his chin now and then. Vanessa’s eye
twitched. “Brayden?” He didn’t stop walking, didn’t even acknowledge she’d
spoken. Like a tea kettle coming to a boil, her whistle blew. “Stop it!” she
yelled. “I don't even want your help.” He was going to ruin everything. She
could do this herself.

She stormed from the room, taking the
stairs two at a time to the bedroom. A thundering sound roared in her ears. Angry
tears spilled from her eyes, but she roughly brushed them away, digging her
hand into her eye just to feel the flare of pain. It helped to calm her down.
She slammed the bedroom door shut and grabbed her satchel. She wanted to punch
the wall or his
face until her knuckles busted and bled. God, she was
just so
angry
. At him, at Joseph, at her father, at herself, at
everything. She stole a bar of soap and other little belongings and shoved them
into her satchel.

“Time to get the fuck out of here.”

“No, it’s not.” His voice stopped her
from in mid-motion of ramming the shampoo bottle into her bag.

A lick of guilt ate at her and she put
it back in the shower before slowly sauntering into the bedroom, her bag hiked
over her shoulder. “Oh, really? And now you have a say in how I live my life?”

Maybe it was the apology she saw in his
bright eyes that reminded her of the moon, or maybe that he’d come after her in
his own way, but something else inside her snapped and she did something she’d
thought about doing from the first day she met him. Her bag slid off her
shoulder and banged against the ground. She went toward him with hard, sure
steps, then jumped into his arms. His hands caught her at the waist while his
head cocked to the side in the perfect look of confusion.

“Before I go, I’m going to do something
I
want.” Then she pushed her hands into his hair, slightly coarse and curling
locks tickling her fingers, wet her top lip with a flick of her tongue and
pressed her lips against his. So many sensations registered in her brain. The
incredible heat from his chest where it pressed along hers. She’d thought he’d
be cold, but, whoa, she wanted to rip both their shirts off so she could feel
his heat against her bare breasts. She kissed him again and again, pressing
their lips together, feeling the pliancy of his lips, and the give, the heat,
until wicked warmth made her go slower, made her lick across his top lip and
push inside.