The Wolf Fount (3 page)

Black and white; turquoise and pink. The color combination was suddenly nauseating.

She went to the kitchenette, opening the fridge to take out a beer. Twisting off the top and tossing it toward the trash can, she drank half of the cold, bubbly liquid in two long gulps while checking the under-sink cabinet. The little fire-proof safe was right where she’d left it.

Calhoun
. Just thinking his name brought a return of the shudders.

He’d done something to her. Morgan was certain of it, remembering how she’d relaxed as they danced, and then lost her goddamned mind when he kissed her.

Did he slip something in my drink?

She wanted that to be the answer, to be able to blame her loss of control on something so simple. Yet deep down, she knew that wasn’t what had happened, having been drugged once before.

Whatever it was, it was related to what she was going through, and to an unsettling phenomenon she kept seeing each time she went to Chanteloup. Every one of the men she’d picked at the need’s urging, their eyes would change colors in reaction to her, or to
something
. Not only that, but a ring of gold would show around their pupils, and it
moved
.

Calhoun’s eyes had been a deep, dark orange, the gold spinning like a top at the center, when that asshole of a club manager had interrupted them.

After a moment’s consideration, Morgan decided that was harsh, because the guy had kept her from a public fucking display. In fact, he’d knocked enough sense into her with his interruption that her hard-won self-preservation instincts had kicked in to get her the hell out of there.

Twelve years of learning to, and being mostly successful at, manipulating men gave her a sharp-honed instinct for which she could twist around her little finger.

Calhoun wasn’t one of those men.

Morgan polished off the beer, threw the bottle away, and headed for her bedroom. She undressed, brushed her teeth, peed, washed her face and hands, and then fell into bed with a frustrated sigh. After staring at the ceiling for a few minutes, she rolled over and dragged a box out from under the bed.

“Feel like playing tonight?” she asked the vibrator that lay inside it. “You do? Great. Let’s rock and roll, sugar.”

As usual, the toy quieted the need enough that she could fall asleep. What wasn’t normal was the dream that followed.

Morgan found herself back at the club and the center of attention. Music pounded, lights flashed, but all of it, even the avidly staring eyes, were like watery notes, because
he
was there too.

His claws dug into the column he held her pinned against, and his mouth was hot as he devoured hers. They were naked, she was wet, and he was gloriously hard, rubbing his dick between her legs, against her. When she wiggled, trying to take him in, he pulled away and opened orange eyes.

“Please.” It was a whimper, so pathetically needy that she scowled in her sleep.

Calhoun smiled, revealing long canines with sharp points. “There’s no hurry.”

“But I need...” Whatever she needed was lost as his lips covered hers again. She reached down to stroke him, hoping to change his mind about hurrying. Being denied what she wanted tended to fuel her rage, but this was feeding an entirely different fire.

He’ll use me
. The thought dashed cold water over her lust just as he finally moved to fill her. Morgan snarled, struggling to form a certain word.

“No!” The dimness of her bedroom greeted her as she opened her eyes. She was panting, skin damp and steaming hot. Worse, she could vividly recall the feel of his hardness as it slid against her. With an annoyed huff, she rolled off the bed and padded to the bathroom. Flicking on the light, she gazed at what the mirror revealed, fear rising in slow, cold surges.

Her eyes were bright green, almost glowing in the harsh light. Morgan leaned closer, only to back away as she saw the circle of gold whirling around her pupils. A tear formed in her right eye, and slid free as she whispered, “What’s happening to me?”

Of course, no one answered. Sinking to the cold tile, she curled into fetal position and began sobbing.

––––––––

M
organ fought an inner war for two days solid, finally surrendering to inescapable logic. Calhoun had said he could explain what was happening to her, and that was the closest she’d come to finding anything out.

She sat in her car, staring at the entrance and the line of people waiting to be admitted. Chanteloup was housed in a two-story, low-key looking building that was painted cream with dark brown trim. The location was off the highway, barely within city limits, and set well back in the midst of an established grove of trees.

The sign was simply the club’s name in fancy, flowing, red neon script.

Morgan studied the way the doormen waved some people through with barely a glance. Here and there, someone would be given a careful once over before being approved to enter. Others were denied admission with a quick shake of head and no apparent scrutiny.

More than willing to put off the moment she’d have to present herself to them, she began trying to guess who’d be allowed inside. She had no doubts she would be, since the owner had told her to come back even after she’d slugged him, and then threatened to gut him.

After several minutes of correct guesses, Morgan cursed under her breath and got out of her car. She locked it, shoved the keys into a front pocket, and squared her shoulders. Suddenly changing her mind, she wasn’t happy when her feet disobeyed, carrying her straight to the entrance, and the head of the line. The two girls who’d just stepped up protested, but she shot a threatening look over her shoulder, and they fell silent.

Morgan focused her attention on one of the doormen, a big, dark-skinned man with light green eyes. She hadn’t seen him before. “I’m here to see Calhoun.”

He grinned, revealing a Hollywood smile of extremely white, even teeth. “What makes you think he wants to see you?”

She stepped right into him, grabbing a handful of the blood red T-shirt he wore, crushing “Chanteloup” into “Chup.” Surprise rippled down the line behind her. “We both know he does, so stop fucking around and move, before I move you.”

His smile didn’t waver. “That chip on your shoulder must be one heavy son of a bitch.”

“You got that right.”

He gave vent to a deep, rich laugh. “I like you. Go on in.”

Releasing the handful of material, Morgan smoothed the wrinkles out with suddenly lazy fingers. Underneath the material, his muscles shivered in reaction, and his smile began to fade. Meeting his now intent gaze, she asked, “What’s your name?”

“Jerome.”

Morgan lifted her right hand, fitting the palm of it to his jaw. His skin felt too warm and smooth. Gold flickered around his pupils, disappearing so quickly that she wondered if she had imagined it. “Good boy.”

He laughed again, half-turning to gesture at the door. Smiling, she let her hand fall and walked past him.

“I
s that her?” His nephew’s query didn’t quite break Cal’s concentration as he stared at the figure standing just a few feet inside the entrance.

“Yes.”

Sebastian studied her. “She’s lovely.”

“Not the word I’d choose, but it’s appropriate too.”

The vampire chuckled. “Then how would you describe her?”

“Raw sex on two legs.” Legs he desperately wanted wrapped around him as soon as possible. Cal shelved his desire for the moment, curious as to what she would do now that she’d returned.

Wait for him to come to her, or come looking for him?

Below, Morgan headed for the west bar. She took a seat and ordered a drink after the bartender spoke to her. Cal smiled. “Guess she wants me to come to her.”

“Is it wise to let her dictate your interaction?”

“A wise man always follows the woman’s lead.” Cal grinned at his nephew. “Trust me; it’s far more fun to do it their way.”

The vampire rolled his eyes, which were the same dark brown as his own. “I see the thrill of the chase hasn’t dulled at all for you. Go on, but don’t come looking to me for sympathy if things go pear-shaped.”

“They might, but they won’t stay that way.” With an affectionate smack to Sebastian’s shoulder, Cal turned away and left the room.

M
organ signaled for a refill, not bothering to look up from her perusal of the bar’s highly polished wood top. A bartender had popped up before she’d finished sitting down, eager to inform her that her drinks were on the house, courtesy of Calhoun.

She didn’t even look up when a bottle and two glasses were placed in front of her. “That’s not what I’m drinking tonight.”

Cal poured the whiskey before responding. “I like to finish a bottle started. Humor me, darlin’.”

With a shrug, she accepted the glass he nudged toward her. “You said you could explain.”

“I can.”

“Then start talking. I don’t have all night.” She picked up the glass and tossed back the contents, letting liquid courage fortify her before meeting his eyes.

“No, you have a few days yet. You’re close, but not quite there.” He leaned on the bar, gently tilting his glass from side-to-side, his dark eyes boring into hers.

“Close to what?”

“Awakening.”

“Well damn, thanks. That clears everything right up. Guess I’ll be on my way.” She made no move to leave. Instead, she grabbed the bottle and filled her glass. Downing half of it, she topped it back off and set the bottle aside. “How about you come across with some real goddamned answers?”

“Sure, but there’s a price for each one.” He leaned toward her, pausing when only an inch or so prevented their noses from bumping together. “A kiss, and I gotta be honest, I’m hoping you have a few hundred questions.”

“No deal.” Morgan added a derisive snort for good measure. “I’ll find someone to ask who doesn’t think with his dick.”

Cal retreated, his lips tightening and one corner of them twitching upward. Was he laughing at her? “Good luck with that. Not all the people who have the answers are the friendly type. They’ll want to kill you. Now is that really better than kissing me?”

Ice coated her stomach as she stared at him, and she knew her voice betrayed the fear she’d been fighting. “You’re lying.”

“Let’s get something straight right now. I may not tell you everything, but I’ll only lie to you if it’s absolutely necessary.” He leaned in again. “I will never lie about someone wanting to kill you.”

“Why would,” she paused when he shook his head.

“You’ve asked one question. I’m not answering another until my fee is paid.”

It’s just a kiss
. Morgan took a sip of her whiskey, her eyes flicking to his lips. A quick meeting of skin, maybe a little spit exchanged.
It’s no big deal
.

She set her glass down, braced a boot on the cross bar of her stool and rose slightly. His lips felt hot against hers, sending tiny flutters of excitement across the skin of her face. She dropped back onto her stool, hoping her expression didn’t betray that excitement. “Why would these people want me dead?”

“Because you’re about to become something important.” He smiled, head tilting to the right. “Pay up.”

She obeyed, trying to ignore her reaction to the contact with him and realizing she needed to formulate better questions. He silently watched as she settled again, his lips curved in the faintest of smiles.

“What did you mean by ‘Awakening?’”

“It’s a rebirth of sorts. You’ll become what you are meant to be.”

“I want answers, not riddles,” she snapped.

“Then ask the right questions. Pay up.” This time, he licked her bottom lip.

A quivering thread of desire shot from there to her groin, prompting her to blurt out the next question without much thought. “What are you?”

“No more human than you are.”

She was too busy gaping at his matter-of-fact tone to resist when he leaned across to take advantage of her surprise. After a lingering exploration of her mouth, he straightened. “Now you’re starting to ask the right questions, but I’m not answering any more in public.”

Morgan slipped off her stool, her fingers tightly gripping the edge of the bar while her legs shook. “Then we’ll go outside.”