Blood Wolf, page 5
“What?”
“I scented her for the first time in the tower the other night, during the full moon.”
Dougal stopped typing and gazed at his son. “You’re not serious?”
“Aye, but it’s the only thing I recall.”
“It’s a start. You’ve never remembered anything that happens during the change before.”
“True.”
“Puzzling, though, because there weren’t any females—” Dougal cocked his head. “Oh, Merlina’s granddaughter?”
“No. Her cousin. Suzanne.”
“Ah. Miss Wood.”
“She’s beautiful.”
“Aye, she is. They both are. But lad, you can’t possibly—”
“I can’t help it.” Damian’s groin tightened at the mere thought of Suzanne. “She’s mine, Da. I don’t know how I know it, but she’s mine. I’m staying in her room with her.”
Dougal stood up and faced his son with fire in his eyes. “You’re what?”
“I’ve moved my stuff back into my old room. Her room. I need to be with her.”
“Have you gone daft, lad? I won’t allow that.”
“Sorry, Da. It’s already done. She’s mine.”
“I raised you better than this, Damian. You can’t force a woman.”
“I’m not forcing her. I just need to be near her.”
“Help ma boab.” Dougal sat back down facing his monitor. “How does the lass feel about this?”
“She’s attracted to me.”
“But how does she feel about it?”
“She doesn’t understand. But the truth is, Da, I don’t understand it either. So that’s one more thing to research. Why do I desire this woman? I can’t get enough of her scent. I want to be near her all the time. I want to protect her. Lie with her. Impregnate her.”
“Oh, for God’s sake. Is she all right? The vamps didn’t hurt her?”
“No. I got there in time.”
“Thank God for that.”
“Trust me, I have.”
“But you don’t believe in God.”
Damian regarded his father, his jaw clenched. “I do now.”
8
Fortunately, when Isabella saw the cute little bookstore, she forgot all about Damian.
“Oh Suze, we’ve got to go in there.” Isabella parked the VW in a dirt alley behind the Lunar Eclipse Bookshop and pulled Suzanne around to the front and into the store.
Suzanne rolled her eyes skyward as she took in the displays of tarot cards, books on witchcraft and moon magick, and incense and herbs. This was paradise for Isabella, pure torture for Suzanne. She found a book of Celtic philosophy and leafed through it, looking up from time to time to see Isabella put another bunch of herbs into the basket she carried.
Bored with the Celts, Suzanne picked up a guide to the Tarot. I really am desperate. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a tall man approach Isabella. Strange that he wore dark glasses inside. The two began a conversation, with Isabella babbling and smiling as was her way. Suzanne put down her book and went to join them.
“Hey, there you are,” Isabella said. “I’d like you to meet the owner of this shop.”
The black-haired man removed his sunglasses to reveal blue eyes.
Cold eyes.
Icy eyes.
Suzanne’s stomach knotted. She grabbed Isabella’s arm and struggled for balance.
“You!”
9
“What is it, Suze?” Isabella said. “You’re hurting my arm.”
“It’s… It’s…” She pointed at the owner of the Lunar Eclipse.
“This is—” Isabella began.
“Rex,” Suzanne said stiffly. “We’ve met.”
“Yes, Rex Donnelly,” Isabella said, her eyes wide. “When did you meet?”
“Aye, when indeed?” Rex echoed. “Sure and I’d remember meeting such a lovely lady.”
Suzanne swallowed. Her heart pounded against her bosom like a bass drum.
“Surely you recall, Mr. Donnelly. Last evening, you threw me into a den of lions.”
“Suzanne,” Isabella said. “Perhaps you’re mistaken.”
“Bull, Bell. This guy handed me over to the three who tried to rape me! We need to call the cops. Are they even called cops here? I’ll call Scotland Yard, I will!”
Rex moved away from Suzanne. “I’m so sorry. You’ve obviously had a traumatic experience. But I assure you, we’ve never met. Perhaps it was someone who looked like me.”
“With your same name?”
“Someone gave you my name. It happens. Criminals rarely use their own name, Miss—”
“Wood,” Suzanne snapped. “Suzanne Wood. And I’ll be pressing charges.”
“Suze—”
“Isabella, we’re leaving.”
“Look, Miss Wood,” Rex said. “I’d hardly have kept my business going here in Padraig for over a decade if I made a habit of aiding and abetting molesters of women.”
“I have no idea whether your business would have flourished here. So far, I’m hardly impressed with Padraig. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
“Suze,” Isabella said. “Isn’t it possible that Mr. Donnelly’s telling the truth? It could have been someone else.”
Rex cleared his throat. “When did this alleged crime take place?”
“Last night, as you well know, outside Café Oxter.”
“Then there’s no problem. I was at home last night. My sister will vouch for me. We share a flat.”
“Suzanne,” Isabella said, “I know how much you’re hurting right now. But can you at least accept the possibility that you’re mistaken? I mean, Mr. Donnelly here owns a shop devoted completely to white magic and the healing arts.”
Suzanne scoffed. “I am so damn sick of you and your magic! It’s all a bunch of lunacy and you know it. I’m going to find a cop. Or a Scotland Yard guy. Or whatever the hell you people have around here that passes for law enforcement.” She headed for the exit in a huff, Isabella and Rex on her heels.
“Allow me,” Rex said. A bell jingled as he opened the door, and the sunlight cast a ray on his forearm.
“Mr. Donnelly—” Isabella began.
“It’s Rex,” he said. “And don’t worry about it. I may be questioned, but nothing will come of it. My sister knows where I was last night, and she’s a pillar of Padraig.” He reached toward Suzanne.
She seethed. Jagged anger rose from her belly to her throat. “Don’t you touch me!”
“I’m sorry,” Rex said. “It’s just a speck of lint.” He brushed her arm lightly, letting his touch linger on her forearm for a moment.
Suzanne inhaled, and her anger dissipated in a glow of pink haze that radiated through her body. Her pulse slowed, and she began to relax. Perhaps she was mistaken after all. He seemed like a perfectly nice man. “Look, Mr. Donnelly—”
“Rex.”
“Yes, Rex. I may have overreacted. Maybe I’ve misjudged you. You don’t seem—”
“It’s quite all right, Miss Wood. You’ve clearly been through an ordeal. Would you like me to call a constable for you?”
“No, no. I’m fine, really. I would rather forget it all, to tell you the truth.”
“Suze, you know you should report it,” Isabella said.
“Yes, yes. And I will.” Suzanne inhaled deeply, wondering how she ever could have mistaken this nice shop owner for the accessory to her near rape. “Please accept my apology.”
“No apology is necessary,” Rex said. “I hope to see you lasses again soon.”
“Of course,” Isabella said. “This is a wonderful shop. I’m sure I’ll be in often for supplies.”
Isabella linked arms with Suzanne as they walked back to the car. “Are you ready to report this?”
“Not yet,” Suzanne said. “I want to go back to the castle. There’s someone I need to see.”
“Who?”
Suzanne imagined strong arms holding her, protecting her, helping her forget the evil in Padraig.
“Damian,” she said softly.
10
Rex closed the shop, headed downstairs to his basement flat, and stopped in the kitchen for an ice pack to soothe his burning arm. Damn sun. His nostrils flared as he pounded on the door to the far bedroom and kicked it in. He roused the sleeping figure on the bed. “Get your ass up, Markus. You have a hell of a lot of explaining to do.”
His sister’s voice came from the doorway. “What on earth has gotten into you, Rex?”
“Stay out of this, Viveca. Your good-for-nothing son damn near outed us last night!”
Markus sat up, rubbed his eyes, and then yowled in pain.
Viveca ran to his bedside. “Markus, darling! What happened to you?”
Markus cleared his throat and raked his fingers through his tangled blond hair. “Had a bit of a run-in.”
“I gift wrapped that American lass for you,” Rex said through clenched teeth. “A nice pretty girl, and I handed her to you on a platter, all because I promised my dear sister I’d make sure you fed. Was it too much to ask for you to keep your end of the bargain?”
“Please, Rex, he’s hurt.” Viveca smoothed her son’s hair.
“Poppycock. He’ll be healed by nightfall, and you know it.” Then, to Markus, “Care to explain why the little lady left with her memories intact?”
Markus groaned. “Sorry Unc. We were waylaid a bit.”
“So you and those other two moron cronies of yours couldn’t handle one woman?”
“Well, she was tall.”
Rex raised his fist, but Viveca stopped him. “Rex, he’s already been beaten.”
Rex exhaled sharply “This is no joke, Markus.”
“Aye, Uncle, I know. Sorry and all that.”
“I swear, Viveca, if he wasn’t your son…” Rex paced around the room. “Listen to me. You and the others need to lie low until this blows over. I managed to soften her up with a little mind control, but it’s too late to completely erase her memory. It’s already gone into long term. If she recognizes you—”
“Hell, I’m no’ afraid of that.”
“You should be. Our very existence depends on flying under the radar.”
“For God’s sake, Rex, this is Padraig, not Edinburgh or Glasgow,” Viveca said. “Everyone knows we’re here.”
“Discretion is still important. And from now on, your son is on his own. I’ll no longer see to his feedings.”
“But you know what happened the last time.”
“He’ll just have to control himself.” He turned to Markus. “Won’t you?”
“Aye. I’ll control myself. Ouch!” He touched his split lip, which had opened and oozed blood.
“That must have been a strong woman,” Viveca said. “Was she one of those American martial artists or something?”
Markus shook his head. “It wasn’t her. A bloke came after her. He was…” He shook his head again. “I still can’t believe it.”
“Believe what, pet?”
“I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t smelled it myself. He was Voldlak.”
Rex jerked forward. “What did you say?”
“You heard me.”
Viveca’s mouth dropped into an oval. “Not possible. They don’t exist. They’re a myth.”
Markus coughed up blood and spat into his hand. “Evidently not.”
Chills ran up Rex’s neck as he contemplated his nephew’s words.
Voldlak.
Blood wolves.
The vampire brotherhood had chased all the werewolf packs out of Scotland centuries before. Those had been a mutant race who spread their disease through the bite. Violent and angry, they menaced entire cities, turning as many as they could as vengeance for their own fate. Rex’s people, as well as humankind, were better off without them.
But Voldlak.
Wolf shifters who were born, not made, with a bite so deadly it could kill a human or vampire without even breaking the skin.
The legend had been passed down for millennia, but to Rex’s knowledge, no vampire had ever seen one. Or smelled one. So how would Markus know?
His nephew was such a moron. If he wasn’t the son of his favorite sister…
“You’re mistaken,” he said. “It was a foreigner with a strange scent. That’s all.”
Markus shook his head violently and coughed again. “I swear it wasn’t.”
“But how would you know?”
“Don’t ask me, but I know. Call it intuition.”
Rex scoffed. “There are many things I could call it, Markus, but intuition isn’t one.”
“Rex,” Viveca said, “he may speak the truth.”
“How could he?”
“You know it’s said that the Voldlak are mortal enemies of the vampires, and each know the other instinctively by scent.”
“This is Markus we’re talking about, Viveca. He’s not even a full-blooded vamp.”
Viveca’s green eyes flashed anger. “You promised you’d never mention that!”
Rex exhaled and tried to melt away some of his stress. He wasn’t being fair to his sister. “I’m sorry.” He turned to Markus. “Tell me more.”
“He lives here. I’ve seen him before, but never noticed his scent until last night.”
“You know him, then?”
“Aye.” Markus winced as fresh blood trickled from his mouth wound. “’Twas the younger MacGowan. Damian.”
11
Suzanne’s heart leaped at the thought of seeing Damian. For once, she let the lawyer in her slumber and didn’t stop to analyze her feelings. She ran straight up to her room and flung the door open. He lay upon the bed reading and looked amazing in faded jeans and a simple black T-shirt.
“Hello, love.” His gaze rose to meet hers.
She ran to him and pounced on the bed.
He chuckled and opened his arms. “Happy to see me?”
“Yes. Yes, yes, yes. I don’t know why, but yes.”
She knelt next to him as he feathered his fingers across her cheek. “Perhaps because you recognize in me what has been missing in your life, as I have, in you.”
His mesmerizing jade irises swirled as he gazed into her grey ones. He reached for her hand and kissed it, and then he jolted as he began to nibble on her forearm.
“Where have you been, lass?”
“In town. With Isabella. You knew where I was going.”
“Who touched you?”
Suzanne jerked her arm away. “What do you mean? No one touched me.”
Damian’s eyes swirled and his body tensed against her.
“You’re okay, then?”
“I’m fine. I swear.”
“I don’t want anyone touching you.”
“Don’t worry.”
“No one but me, that is.” His eyes softened. “I want to be the one to touch every part of you. Your body. Your heart. Your soul.”
She sighed. “You say the loveliest things to me.” She took his hand in hers, kissed it, and then touched his fingertips gently. “Your fingers look much better.”
“Some of Merlina’s special salve. I’m a quick healer.”
She smiled. “I’m glad. And your back?”
“Much better, as well.”
“Are you ever going to tell me what happened to you?”
“Eventually.”
“How about now?”
“How about you kiss me first?”
He pulled her down on top of him until her body covered his. She met his mouth eagerly, kissed him lightly, and ran the tip of her tongue over his fleshy lips. He responded, parting his lips and tasting her, caressing the inside of her cheeks with his silken tongue. Suzanne sighed into his mouth. She had never tasted anything quite like Damian. His flavor was unique and intoxicating, and she couldn’t get enough of it. Boldly, she deepened the kiss, thrusting her tongue into his mouth, and then bit his lips and tugged on them.
“Mmm,” she said. “You taste so good, Damian.”
He pressed his lips to her neck and inhaled. “I was just thinking the same thing about you.” He inhaled again and groaned. “And you smell even better.”
Suzanne giggled. What was that? Suzanne Wood didn’t giggle. But there was no other way to describe the girlish laugh that escaped her. “Why do you like my smell so much?”
“Mmm. I don’t know. But I can’t get enough of it. Of you.”
She giggled again. “I don’t understand.”
“Don’t you like my scent?”
“I don’t know that you have one.”
“I do. Everyone does. Here.” He cupped her face and led her to his neck. “Smell me.”
“Damian—”
“Come on. Just try it.”
“Okay.” She buried her face in his neck and inhaled. Cloves again. And musk. Musky man. A little salt. Did salt even have a smell? And wood. Sandalwood or cedarwood. Maybe some patchouli? She was grasping at straws. It was indescribable. It was just…Damian. And it was fantastic. She inhaled again, pressed her lips to the curve of his neck, and kissed him gently. Tiny butterfly kisses. His whispered moans fueled her desire, and she nipped at him, gentle little love bites, and laved him with her tongue. And she made little noises. Almost like a purr. Who was this strange woman?
“You like?” Damian asked huskily.
“I like,” she said. “I like a lot.”
“See, I have a smell.”
“Oh yes, you do.” She inhaled again and licked the pulse point on his throat. “You smell wonderful.”
“Mmm hmm. See what I mean? You’re mine. And I’m yours.”
“Oh, Damian.”
“It’s true, Suzanne. You’ll understand soon enough.”
“I want to. Really I do. But in the meantime”—she kissed his chiseled jaw line—“shouldn’t we get to know each other a little better?”
He smiled against her face. “I’ve no objection to that.”
“Good. Why don’t you take me out on a date? Or something.”
“I suppose we could. How about tonight?”
“Works for me.”
“All right. And in the meantime, we can spend the afternoon making slow, sweet love.”
“Um, Damian?”
