Witch Wolf (17 page)

One arm snaked around my back, and she lifted me, holding me against the wall. I dug my nails into her shoulders, growling my pleasure into her mouth. Heat rose from the center of my body, spilling out of my mouth in a muffled cry as I came against her hand.

My knees buckled. Rosalin helped lower me to the ground. I leaned back against the wall, eyes narrowing.

"Why?" I asked, trying to get my lungs to work properly. Her power left the sweet taste of cool ginger in my mouth. Her scent lingered in my senses like patchouli.

She knelt in front of me, gazing at me with eyes that were sincere and warm. "You needed it,"

she said softly.

I stared at her for several moments, eyes narrowed, unsure of how I felt. I was angry with her, angry that she had pursued, but more pissed off with myself. I'd given in. I'd allowed the beast to override my sensibilities. I closed my eyes. I knew if I gave in to that anger, there wouldn't be any stopping it. It would rear its ugly head, and there would be hell to pay, because once my anger found a target, it wasn't easily satiated.

Her touch was light as she took my hands in hers. "Kassandra?" She made it a question. "What's the big deal? It was just sex. You enjoyed it. . . "

I threw her hands away, snatching the towel as I stood. She watched as I wrapped the towel around my body. My hands and words shook with anger. "It's never just about sex, Rosalin." I opened the bathroom door and walked out. Once the door slammed shut I stopped in my tracks. I had a moment to wonder which was more frightening-facing Rosalin, or the scene on Lenorre's bed.

Lenorre was like some dark mysterious dream caught between the folds of erotic and horrifying.

Her eyes rolled upward, reflecting the candlelight as I walked into the room. Why did I suddenly feel the urge to turn tail and go back the other way? Her eyes were like silver mist, deep, intense, and untouchable. The power I felt in the room was thick, making it hard to breathe, like an overpowering smell in a small area. There was a woman in her lap. The woman's neck bent back at an awkward angle. I expected to see pain written across her features, but what I saw was the look that really good sex will give a person.

Lenorre watched me while she fed. Her onyx lashes fluttered, as if she found it pleasurable. The blood pounded in my ears. I tried to reason with my body. One foot in front of the other, that's the way to go, but my legs didn't seem to be working.

Lenorre stroked a hand down the woman's back, cradling her, comforting her. It was too gentle a gesture for what was happening. I tried to move, but my body felt too heavy, too solid. The hairs on my arms stood on end. I felt the magic riding in the air, coming for me a second before it hit.

The pain that shot through the side of my neck was sharp and cramping.

The magic spilled across my skin like something liquid, filling my blood like sweet poison. A hand stroked down up and down my back. Every muscle in my body relaxed while her mouth worked at the wound. Each flick of her tongue against the wound was long and sensuous. I felt weightless struggling against a pleasure my body wanted to accept. My mind did not want to accept it. I felt the metaphysical bars of her power and screamed.

Someone was drawing deep ragged breaths. I knelt on the floor as my vision blurred around the edges. The candlelit room slowly came into view as the spinning in my head seemed to slow down.

I was the one who had sounded like she was about to hyperventilate. Closing my eyes I took meditative breaths, counting each. It helped to push some of the panic away. I opened my eyes to find Lenorre kneeling in front of me. Blood painted her lips and the sight made my heart bang against my ribs. I tried to move out of reach, but she was too fast. Her lips caught mine. With her tongue she pushed the taste of blood into my mouth. The beast stirred at that promise.

I touched her hair, twining a handful around my fingers. I ate at her mouth as the hunger rode me, ate at her mouth like I was dying for it. The edge of her fangs brushed across my tongue and I hesitated, about to pull away when the beast howled through me. How could we refuse such a prize? How could we not honor such a gift? I pressed into the kiss, no longer worried that she might bleed me. I cleaned the blood from her mouth, licked it from her lips.

The metaphysical bonds that held the beast in place relaxed. We were one.

"You smell of sex." Lenorre breathed against my mouth.

"You smell like blood," I said. If we were going to point out the obvious, might as well start there.

"So do you," she said and I looked at her. Her eyes were their usual cloudy gray, no longer misty with vampiric powers. The robe she wore was silk, sleeves ending at the elbows in a spill of black lace. It draped open down the middle, revealing the low neckline of the nightgown underneath. The beginning of her sternum peeked through all of that black, making her skin look inhumanly white. A jolt of longing cut through me. I clutched the towel tightly to my chest.

"Was it worth it?" she asked, freeing the white streak in my hair. She twirled the wet strand around her finger, tugging lightly.

"It wasn't my idea," I said.

Lenorre stood in a swish of black silk. "You say that it was not your idea?" She looked at me. I nodded.

"But did you enjoy it?" she asked, eyes intent.

"Yes," I said, then thought about it. "No."

"Kassandra, choose one. I want the truth from you, not a mixed message."

I glared at her. When did it become her business? Better yet, why was everyone suddenly up in my business? First Rosalin, now Lenorre.

"Yes," I said and watched as her face hardened in disgust. I wasn't going to lie to her. Whether it was the wolf, or me, some part of me had enjoyed sex with Rosalin. I hadn't enjoyed the fact that my longing, the beast, and my groin had gotten the best of me.

I heard the bathroom door open. Lenorre's gaze went to it, eyes full of an anger I couldn't understand. I seriously doubted the vampire harbored any jealousy toward me. More than likely, I suspected her ego was bruised that she hadn't gotten to me first.

I moved so that I could keep both the werewolf and the vampire in view. Rosalin's hair was wet like she too had taken a bath. A matching black towel was tucked around her body, and I knew she made the situation look twenty times worse.

Rosalin looked at me, and then the vampire. The expression on her face told me she was completely lost, but she had to have heard some of the conversation. Our kind have excellent hearing.

"I did not say that you could use my bath." Lenorre gave the other werewolf a look the put a chill of coldness in my heart.

"I didn't think you would mind."

Lenorre closed her eyes and responded with two words, but the command in her tone was hot enough to make me flinch.

"Get out."

Rosalin looked at me as if asking for sympathy. I was too upset to feel particularly sympathetic. I felt like an idiot who'd allowed myself to get caught up in a moment of careless passion.

A look of pain crossed her face and she hesitated at the door. She looked back at me.

I shook my head. "No," I said when she opened her mouth to speak, "not now."

She left.

My hands trembled where they held the towel in place. Lenorre turned away, looking up at a painting on the wall. In the glow of candlelight it was beautiful. The painting was many shades of deep swirling blues and black. There were tiny pinpricks of light trapped in the sky, small silver stars. A horned crescent moon hung low on the horizon, stark white against the darkness.

The edge of a gray cliff jutted out, welcoming the moon. The lighter shade of the sea below reflected the moon's luminosity, tides curling in welcome to her light.

The woman Lenorre had fed upon lay back against the thick dark pillows. As if she felt my gaze, she looked at me. Her skin was as pale as mine, but not quite the unnatural paleness of Lenorre's.

I couldn't tell if it was some trick of light or contacts that made her eyes look like amethysts. She turned her head and I noticed there was a purple tint to the fall of her straight black hair.

"Zaphara," Lenorre said.

"Yes, m'lady?" The voice didn't quite purr like Lenorre's, but there was breathiness to it that hinted at more nefarious things.

"Show Kassandra to her room."

The woman nodded to the vampire's back, climbing out of the pile of massive covers. She buttoned the top two buttons of her blouse, smoothing out the material with the palms of her hands. The dress slacks she wore were wide enough and had enough give that they made her legs look long and slinky. Her heels were muffled against the thick-carpeted floor. I looked up at Lenorre, and then followed the woman out into the brightly lit hallway. I squinted until my eyes adjusted.

Zaphara walked ahead, putting a sway in her walk that would turn every head in a bar. I frowned and forced myself to stare at the fall of her black hair, deciding it was a bad idea since her hair ended right above her ass. I'd had enough preternatural drama for one night. It wouldn't do to stir the cauldron even more.

We passed several doors before she turned a corner.

"This is your room," she said.

I walked into the room and nearly dropped my towel. It wasn't as large as Lenorre's room, but the space was generous. The room smelled of rosewood, sweet and spicy at the same time. Thick green material was pulled back and tied to each post on the canopy bed. The pillows were a combination of greens and cream colors. A rosewood armoire was placed in the corner of the room, matching the wooden posts of the canopy and the mirror diagonal from the bed. There was a Victorian vibe to the room, but beneath style was the energy one only finds in natural elements like wood and stone.

Dark gray yoga pants and a white tank top were spread out on the bed. I guessed that Rosalin had taken them out and left them for me.

"Rosalin put the rest of your clothes in the dresser," Zaphara said from the doorway and I nodded.

"If you need anything I'm down the hall and to the right." She left, shutting the door without waiting for my response.

I went to the dresser and opened a drawer. Rosalin had brought more than one outfit for me, all of which were neatly folded. I dug through them, finding a pair of black underwear. I opened the doors on the side to find that the dress and coat I had worn to dinner were hanging on wooden hangers. They smelled like they'd been cleaned.

I tossed the towel over the large mirror and changed. I was glad the tank top had sort of a built-in sports bra so that the shirt wasn't see-through. After I dressed I went back to the armoire, remembering my cell phone. It wasn't in the pockets of my coat, where it should've been. I frowned and headed for the door, nearly jumping out of my skin when my mind registered the vampire leaning her tall frame against the door. I wondered how long she'd been standing there.

"I told you to stop doing that." I narrowed my eyes at her.

"Doing what?" She looked genuinely perplexed.

"Poofing. You did the poof thing again."

"I apologize for. . . poofing." She gave a slow blink. "I wanted to give this to you. You had a phone call." Extending her arm, she offered my cell phone.

"Why do you have my cell?" I asked, and the suspicion in my voice was obvious.

"I used it to contact Rosalin." She shrugged, as if that explained everything. I took the phone and stood there, staring at her.

She motioned at it with a graceful flick of her wrist. "You might want to get that."

I looked at it and realized it was on. "Shit, now you tell me."

"I told you a moment ago that you had a phone call."

I shook my head and took the call. "Yeah?"

"Who was that?" Arthur asked. "Did I interrupt some bow-chicka-bow-wow?"

"A friend, and no you didn't interrupt anything." That was, like, thirty minutes ago, right? "What do you want, Arthur?"

"To hear your sexy angry voice," he said, laughing loudly over the line. I had to move the phone away from my ear for a second or risk injury to my eardrum.

"Arthur, cut the crap. Why are you calling me at two in the morning?"

Did he catch Carver? I wondered. I hoped.

"I'm not telling you until you tell me who answered
your
phone."

"I told you, a friend."

"She sounded hot."

I looked at Lenorre, who sat on the bed smiling. No doubt she was hearing the entire conversation.

"Maybe," I said and her smile faltered a little around the edges. I smirked. "Your turn. What's going on?"

"We've got our first official werewolf complaint," he said in a singsong tone.

"Really?" I asked in my best you-are-boring-the-shit-out-of-me tone. A complaint? Not the actual werewolf? Damn it.

"Holbrook wants you to come in and help question her," he said, serious.

"Her?" I asked.

"Yep," he said. "Can you be here in twenty minutes?"

"Yeah, if you want me to get pulled over for speeding."

"What? Your apartment isn't that far away. . . Ooh." There was a pause as it dawned on him.

"You're not at home, are you?" He laughed.

"That's none of your business," I said.

"Aww," he said, "spoil the fun. How far away are you?"

"From the station?" I asked. "If I take the highway, only half an hour or so." I was guessing. I hadn't kept track of time when Lenorre drove us out here. Who would with a vampire driving?

"I'll let Holbrook know, but you should hurry. You know how impatient he is."

"Yeah, okay," I said, remembering. Captain Holbrook was bossy, loud, obnoxious, and had zero patience. If he said to get something done, he meant get it done in 2.5 seconds. His wife was the complete opposite, polite, soft spoken, and with what seemed like an unending amount of patience. Usually, people that project a sweet image to the world have a horrible temper lurking somewhere in the depths, but not Lillian. She was the epitome of kindness and ladylike grace.

"Hurry up, all right?" he said.

"Give me time to change and then I'll leave," I said.