The Twisted Kiss: Doomsyear, Book 1 (8 page)

Michael leaned against the counter when they were done and looked out into the night-dark sky. It was still raining.

“Did you come over here on your cycle?” she asked him. Michael driving his cycle in the rain concerned her. He was a vamp, all big and strong, but he wasn’t immortal. It jarred her how much the thought of his getting hurt bothered her.

“No.” He jerked his head toward Christian. “He came over to yell at me. We made peace and decided to come over here together.”

“Yell at you?” She looked at Christian “About what?”

“You, of course.” Christian grinned. “It’s pretty much all we have in common.”

“I bet you have more than that in common.”

“Maybe.” Christian glanced at Michael. “I gotta say that as vamps go, he’s not a bad one.”

Michael grinned. “Thanks for the high praise.”

“No problem.”

Christian walked over to her and pulled her from her chair. She gave a little surprised cry when she ended up flush against his chest. “You’re more than enough anyway.” He dropped his head and kissed her, his lips slanting over hers slowly and then parting to allow the slip of his tongue.

She melted against him, her hands gripping his upper arms. For a moment, she worried about Michael, who was standing in the kitchen watching both of them, but then Christian’s kiss deepened and she couldn’t worry after that—or think.

He pulled her away from the table and held her close, taking his time with the kiss, exploring her tongue with his and making little sounds like she was the best thing he’d ever tasted. His kiss made her think of the night they’d spent together, of naked, entwined limbs and skin sliding against skin. It made lust fire up in her belly and want it again.

Christian broke the kiss and she staggered back against the table, her eyes slightly unfocused. He gave her a cocky grin—so very Christian. He understood the kind of effect he had on her and he loved it.

Michael stood not far away, fists clenched and a dark look in his eyes. She wasn’t sure if it was jealousy that made him look that way or pure, flat-out desire. Something in the pit of her stomach told her it was a combination of both and she wondered what would come of that. Michael was intelligent and sensitive, but he had a dangerous edge to him too. Christian was tough and protective, funny and kind, and, overall, less complicated. Her gaze met Michael’s and held. His pupils seemed to go larger and darker. It made her heart thump in her chest.

Suddenly she needed to be away from both of them, away from this confusion and the heavy feeling that had entered the room—lust and expectation. She needed to be away from all of it.

Ripping her gaze from Michael’s, she turned and left the room. She went for the foyer and her jacket. She could head down to the bar for a few hours, drown herself in work. Anything to distract her from this situation she’d been thrust into.

Michael reached her with preternatural speed, took her by the arm and whirled her to face him. He yanked her up against his chest and whispered against her mouth, “Give in to us.”

She shuddered against him. Had they planned this? Had they come over to the house tonight with exactly this in mind? A double seduction? If it had been any other men but these, she could resist, but she’d already proven twice over that she had no defenses against them—as a double threat they were surely her downfall.

“Give in to you?” she whispered back. “Like I have a choice.”

“You do have a choice. Tell us to leave and we will.”

A shadow had fallen nearby. Christian had followed them into the foyer.

She bowed her head, resting it on Michael’s shoulder, trying to imagine the words
stop
or
leave
coming out of her mouth…and failing. “God, what is wrong with me? I want you two so much.
Both
of you.”

“That’s natural. It’s as the council said it would be. You’re our mate.” Michael’s voice rumbled through his chest as he spoke. “You are ours, Kylie, as we are yours.”

Christian moved to her other side. “This is how it could be,” he whispered in her ear, making goose bumps erupt all over her body. “You could have both of us, Kylie, both of us to love you.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and felt the truth of that statement through every fiber of her body, yet all she wanted was to deny it and push them both away. She had never felt so out of control in her entire life and she hated it.

Christian forced her to look up at him. “What’s going through your beautiful head now, baby? What are you thinking?”

Her breath shuddered out of her. She didn’t say what she was thinking—
I’m not worthy of this
—because if she did, she’d cry. “The last time I was in a relationship—”

“That man became a monster. You blame yourself for that, I know.”

Damn it.
A tear rolled down her cheek.

Michael cupped her chin and focused his gaze on hers. “Christian and I are already monsters, Kylie. Can you live with that?” He stared down into her face for a long moment, then dipped his head and caught her lips against his. He slid them slowly over hers until her knees turned to butter.

Monsters, schmonsters…
It didn’t matter what Michael was when he kissed her this way.

Dimly, she noted that the lights in the house flickered and then went out.

“What the…” breathed Christian.

Michael broke the kiss and she glanced out the window, expecting to see a storm. It wasn’t unusual that she would lose electricity when there was a lot of wind. It was still raining, but there wasn’t a breeze or a lightning strike in sight.

At the back of the house she heard the screen door slam…yet she, Michael and Christian were in the foyer at the front of the house.

Christian suddenly moved toward her in a protective gesture. “Do you smell that, Michael?”

“Fuck,” Michael said under his breath.

“What? What is it?” Although she thought she might already know. At the possibility, her stomach suddenly felt filled with cold lead.

“Take her,” Christian commanded, moving away from them. “Take her and protect her. You play defensive and I’ll go offensive.”

In the half light she could see that Christian’s form was rippling, shifting.

Then she got a whiff of something tainted on the air, something wrong. Unwashed human body mixed with animal. A being that should not be.

Louis.

Chapter Eight

Her stomach coiled into cold little knots. She thought all trace of humanity had been eaten up when the virus had taken Louis and turned him
verdorben.
But there could be only one explanation for why he had chosen to return to her tonight, after all these years. Somehow, he had learned about the proclamation and some part of him that still retained his humanity didn’t like it.

Michael growled low in his throat. She looked up to see that his fangs were out, gleaming in the pale light filtering in through the window. Before her, Christian was nearly transformed into the huge black wolf that was his other form. His clothing hung in strips on him, rent from the change in his size and shape. He made no sound of pain, but Kylie knew the process hurt.

Finally, an enormous black wolf stood in the middle of her foyer. He shook himself once, ridding himself of the scraps of clothing, looked back at her and Michael, then leapt through the doorway into the living room with one smooth, rippling move.

Somewhere at the back of the house, something growled. Christian answered with his own growl and Louis—it had to be him—snarled in response.

“Oh, God,” she breathed, her hand going to her mouth. “I can’t believe this is happening.” She gripped Michael’s arm. “Gun. I need my gun, right now.” She bolted up the stairs toward her bedroom. She couldn’t let Louis hurt Christian or Michael.

Memories slammed into her as she pounded up the stairs and ran into her bedroom, images of Louis how he used to be…and how he was now. Michael stood sentinel at the door as she flung her closet door open, grabbed the handgun on the top shelf and checked it for a cartridge.

Downstairs, furniture crashed amid a flurry of snarling and growling. Kylie dashed toward the door, but Michael caught her around the waist.

She fought him, trying to pull away. She was responsible for Louis being the way he was; it was her place to put him down. Tears streamed down her cheeks. This was her worst nightmare made real.

Michael was around fifty times stronger than she was. All he had to do was pick her up, turn around and walk back into the room. It didn’t matter how much she kicked and flailed. “Michael, let me go! I can’t let this happen. I can’t—”

He threw her down onto the bed. She looked up at him, seething, hand wrapped firmly around the gun’s handle.

Michael’s fangs were still out. The lines of his face looked brutal. “Christian can handle him. You’re staying with me so I can keep you safe.”

Downstairs, the sounds of battle reached a crescendo, making Kylie’s blood turn to icy slush in her veins. Something yelped and all went quiet.

She looked up at Michael, breathing heavily. “You better be right,” she rasped through a too-tight throat. “I will never forgive myself if something happens to Christian.”

He inched to the door and peered out. The house had gone still. He held up a hand in her direction. “You stay here,” he whispered. “I’m going down to check. If something comes up those stairs that isn’t me or Christian, use that gun.”

She nodded, her breath coming shallow.

He eased into the hallway and down the stairs. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying Christian was all right.

Low, pained breathing drew her from her prayers. Her heartbeat momentarily arrested, she slid from the bed with a nearly silent swoosh of fabric and wrapped both hands around the gun, pointing the muzzle at the doorway.

A soft, dragging sound met her ears, a muted shuffling noise mated with the labored breathing of a wounded animal.

Eyes wide, she swallowed a whimper of fear. She knew what it was in that hallway; she could smell it. Her whole body shook when what was left of Louis rounded toward her in the doorway.

His form was coated with dark, sticky blood and open wounds from his battle with Christian’s wolf. His deformed body hulked in the doorway, small black eyes peering at her from a face that was forever caught between human and wolf, a grotesque mixture that twisted the viewer’s mind. He opened his mouth to reveal bloody fangs, like that of a vampire’s—fangs that had probably ripped into Christian’s body.

She raised her gun and pointed straight at Louis’s head. Her body shook, but her hands didn’t. Louis narrowed his eyes and growled, making all the hair on her body raise. Still, she couldn’t make herself shoot him.

This was her fault.

She would be able to shoot in defense of Michael or Christian, but not in defense of herself. If Louis leapt across the room and tore her apart right now, she would let him. She deserved it.

But Louis didn’t budge. He only stared at her, dripping blood on the carpet, his fangs gleaming dully and a thin growl trickling from his parted jowls. They locked gazes—held.

Sounds came from the stairway and Louis sprang from his crouch straight through her bedroom window. Glass and wood crashed. Kylie covered her head, rolling to the side to protect herself from flying debris.

In an instant, Michael was there, lifting her away from the glass and carrying her to the safety of the hallway. “Where is it?” he rasped through his fangs.

She shook her head, realizing she was still gripping the gun. “Gone. Jumped out the window.”

He put her down and she followed him back into the bedroom. Rain pounded into the huge gaping hole that used to be her window and the wind rustled the yellow curtains that still hung on either side. Together they peered out, letting the rain and wind hit their faces.

Louis was gone.

She let out a shuddering breath and tossed the gun to the bed. Then she asked the question she was afraid to hear the answer to, “How’s Christian?”

“Wounded, but he’ll be okay.”

She let out a pent-up breath and went for the door. Hitting the stairs running, she was at the wolf’s side in a heartbeat. He lay in what remained of her living room, a furry, dark lump on the carpet that was now shredded from scraping and scratching claws.

She lay her hand on the wolf’s shoulder and threaded her fingers through his silky fur. “Christian?”

The wolf let out a whuffling sound. After a moment, he started to shift. She backed away, watching the transformation. This was what Louis couldn’t do. He was forever caught in a distorted triple life of wolf, vampire and human. If anyone from Sweet Rock knew he was stalking these woods, he would be hunted down like the monster she’d turned him into.

Finally the nude, blood-streaked form of Christian lay where the wolf had a moment ago. She hurried to his side and began assessing the damage. It looked as if most of the blood was not his, but he did have one nice gash in his shoulder, probably made by Louis’s fangs.

Behind her she felt Michael’s presence as he entered the room.

“How bad is it?” she asked Christian.

He pushed to a sitting position with his good hand. Blood caked his hair. He glanced at his shoulder, then grinned. “I guess I might need a Band-Aid or two.” The rasp in his voice betrayed the flip response. He was hurting.

Michael walked over to stand near them. “Christian wounded Louis really badly and he won’t be back for while. I suggest you clean him up while I cover your broken window. He’s a wolf—it won’t take him long to heal, but it would be better if the wound was clean when it happened. Once that’s done, we can head to my house. I have safeguards in place to prevent that thing from getting in.”

“Sounds like a plan.” She looked around at her wrecked house. The extent of the damage hadn’t really registered yet. “I don’t want to stay here, that’s for sure.”

“I won’t let you stay here,” came Michael’s firm reply. Then he was gone.

She helped Christian to his feet and led him into the downstairs bathroom where she had a first aid kit. After lighting a few emergency lamps, she guided him to sit on a chair so she could work on cleaning up the gash in his shoulder. It would be better to do this in good light, but Michael was right about needing to get it done quickly. Werewolves healed fast.