Blood Wolf, page 8
Now where the hell was he going to sleep?
Damian wandered the halls of the castle. All of his stuff was in Suzanne’s room.
What had he been thinking?
She wanted him, and he had walked away.
His hunger roused the wolf. His body trembled, but he would not sate himself. Not with anyone but Suzanne. He couldn’t bear the thought.
This wooing thing was going to kill him.
Don’t fall right into bed with her. Show her she’s worth the wait.
Number thirty-two in the first article. Number ten in next. Stupid thing had appeared in nearly all his research.
Of course, the idiots who wrote these—probably all women—didn’t say what to do when his urges overpowered him.
He glanced at his watch. Half past one in the morning. He had left Suzanne an hour ago. Had he been pacing all this time?
“To hell with wooing,” he said aloud and then ran to Suzanne’s room.
He opened the door without knocking. There she was, sprawled on the bed, naked, her brown tresses fanned like gossamer wings against her pillow. Her plump breasts rolled gently with each sweet breath she took. Her legs, slightly bent, tangled in the cotton sheet. Damian took a sharp breath, her loveliness nearly too much to bear. Then he noticed the black curls between her legs. Still moist.
God she was beautiful. Like nothing he had ever seen before. His cock ached for her.
He disrobed quickly and climbed into bed next to her.
“Damian?” Her voice was raw, as though she had been crying.
“Aye. It’s me.”
She turned to him, wrapped her arms around him, and drew him close.
“Damn it, if you ever leave me like that again, I’ll rip your head off.”
He chuckled softly. “My mistake, love. All this wooing nonsense. Never again. I promise.”
“Do you want to…?”
“In the morning, mo cridhe.” He feathered a few kisses across her forehead. “Go back to sleep now.”
Oh, he wanted to have her. It was a fierce need, a driving hunger. His body yelled from within to climb on top of her and thrust into her, take her, make her his. But a stronger desire overpowered his basal instinct. A need to hold her, protect her, be with her. What he felt in her arms was like nothing he had known before. Security. Safety. True love.
True love? Where had those words come from?
He smiled to himself and inhaled the sweet vanilla fragrance of her hair. Was it possible, after only a few days?
He had known from the first instant that she was his. He didn’t understand it, but that didn’t make it any less real.
Aye.
True love.
22
Suzanne awoke entangled in Damian’s arms. She ran her fingers lightly over his back. The scratches had healed.
Wow.
They had healed fast, hadn’t they?
She traced his wolf tattoo. An incredible work of art. But why? Why would he tattoo his entire back? She eyed him up and down. He didn’t appear to have any other tattoos. She smiled to herself. She had always wanted a tattoo but had never possessed the courage to get one. Wade would have freaked out. Maybe she would ask Damian to take her to get a tattoo while she was here. It would be a fun souvenir of her few weeks in Scotland.
Few weeks? The words hit her like a bolt of lightning. She didn’t live here. She wouldn’t be staying. This thing with Damian—it would end.
Sadness hit Suzanne like a harsh rainstorm. She didn’t want to leave. She wanted to know Damian better. He was the best thing to come into her life in a long time. But she had a job.
A home.
A life back in the States.
“Oh, Damian.” She sighed.
He turned over, opened his eyes, and smiled. “Morning.”
“Good morning,” she said.
“Sleep well, love?”
“Yeah. You?”
“Aye.”
“I’m sorry about last night, Damian.”
“You’re sorry? About what?”
“I…whatever I did to anger you. To drive you away.”
He chuckled softly. “You did nothing, mo cridhe. It was me. All me. I was trying to woo you.”
“By leaving me hanging?”
“Aye.”
“Who in the world told you to do that?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not sure, but all the articles I read said that I shouldn’t push you into bed. And I know I’ve been…persistent up until now.”
Suzanne smiled and raked her eyes over his incredible body. “You have been. But Damian, last night I wanted you. I thought you knew.”
“Aye, I knew.”
“Then why did you leave?”
“I thought it was what I had to do. To woo you, that is.”
“Okay, listen to me.”
“What is it?”
“Throw out all that research.”
“You mean you didn’t like the flowers, the dinner, the moonlit walk?”
“No, no. All that stuff was great.”
“I didn’t want you to think I did all that just to get you into bed.”
“I didn’t think that. I wanted to make love with you last night, Damian. I wanted to be close to you. I felt like we connected at dinner. We got to know each other better. When you left, I thought…”
“What, love?”
“I thought you didn’t want me anymore. That once you got to know me, you changed your mind.”
“Never, love.” He sat up and faced her, his swirling eyes boring into hers. “I’ll never change my mind about you.” He brushed his lips lightly against hers. “Is that why you were crying?”
She nodded and tore her gaze from his. He tipped her chin with his hand and forced her to look into his eyes. “I promise you, Suzanne Wood, I will never change my mind about you.” He brushed his lips over hers. “Mo cridhe, I love you.”
Suzanne gasped as her heart nearly leaped from her chest. “I’m sorry?”
“I said I love you, Suzanne.”
“But how?”
“Crazy, I know. Damned if I understand it. But from the first moment I saw you, smelled you, touched you, I knew. You’re mine. Always.”
Suzanne squirmed, wanting to break away, yet wanting to clamp herself to him and never let go. The overwhelming contradictions gnawed at her gut. “Oh, Damian, I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything.”
“But I do. I’m only here for a few weeks. I have a job, a home, a life.”
“So you’ll start a new life. Here. With me.”
“It’s not that simple.” She breathed deeply. “You know I just got out of a messy relationship. I don’t want you to be my rebound guy. That wouldn’t be fair to you.”
“Rebound guy?”
“You know. The man who picks up the pieces and then moves on.”
“I’ll never move on.”
She covered her face with her hands. What had she gotten herself into? And why was she half ready to drop her entire life and stay in Scotland with a man she had met less than seventy-two hours ago?
Damian gently pulled her hands from her face and replaced them with his own. “I love you. There’s not a doubt in my mind. You’ll love me someday. I’m sure of it. I want to make love to you now.” He pressed his lips to hers. “Now. Right now.” His brown-green eyes swirled.
Suzanne’s breath caught in her throat. “Damian—”
“Now. I’ve waited long enough for you. I need you. Desperately.”
“But I—”
“You were ready to love me last night. I should have taken you then.”
Suzanne nodded. “Yeah. You should have. I wouldn’t have turned you down.”
“And now?”
She lowered her hand to her pillow and found the soft fur of her stuffed wolf. Perfect. A change of subject. “How did you know I love wolves?”
He still cupped her cheeks, and his eyes swirled into hers. “I didn’t.”
“I collect them. Photos, figurines, stuffed animals.”
A lazy half smile curled over Damian’s sensuous mouth. “I didn’t know, love.”
“You have good instincts then, I guess.”
“Aye. So I have.”
“Do you like wolves?”
He drew his gaze away from hers, still cupping her cheeks. “I wrote about them in my book.”
“So you like them?”
He sighed, his eyes a swirly mass of brown and green. And sadness? “I love many things about them. Their strength. Their beauty. Their wildness.” He returned his gaze to hers. “Now, mo cridhe, will you let me love you as I desire?”
Suzanne’s skin tingled with anticipation. Her blood boiled like hot nectar in her veins, the warmth flowing downward to her sexual core. She slowly nodded her head.
He groaned and lowered his mouth to hers. His kiss was deep and passionate. No mouth foreplay this time. He delved in with his tongue and tasted her thoroughly, completely.
Damian’s tongue danced around hers, licking, stroking, plunging in and out, mimicking the sex act. Suzanne’s pulse raced as she laced her fingers through his waves and pulled him closer, kissing him deeper. If it were possible for two people to mate through a kiss, they were doing it.
Then hands. Hands everywhere. His on her breasts. Hers on his shoulders, caressing his tight sinewy muscle. His cupping her mound, sliding through her slick folds. Hers grasping his cock, stroking it as his shudder rocked through her own body. Heat. Intense heat.
“So wet,” he said as he fondled her pussy. “So wet. For me.”
She gasped as he slid a finger inside her.
“For you,” she echoed, sliding her lips over his neck, his shoulder, down onto his chest, where she flicked her tongue over a brown nipple.
“Aye, love,” he said. “Touch me. I’m yours. All yours.”
Suzanne’s fingers shook as she scraped the golden skin of his chest and licked downward, twirling her tongue through the masculine hair, down to his navel, and then…
She wanted him in her mouth. That beautiful perfectly formed cock. It called to her. Lick me. Taste me.
“Aye.” He read her mind. “Taste me, love. I ache for it.”
Her lips trembled as she opened her mouth to take him. Her tongue touched his tip and he jerked. “God a’mighty, lass, you’re killing me.”
She smiled, swirled her tongue around him, and reveled in the salty pre-come that emerged. She kissed and nibbled and then prepared herself to take all of him.
Someone pounded on her door.
“Aw, fuck!” Damian jerked away from Suzanne’s mouth. “If that’s your cousin again, I can’t be held responsible for my actions.”
Suzanne looked at her lover, crazed with passion and desire, and then she looked down at her own body, flushed with a fiery redness, her pussy swollen and wet.
Damn it, Isabella, why now?
“Just ignore it,” she said.
But the pounding continued. “Suze, it’s me. I have to talk to you. Please, I’ve been up all night. It’s extremely important!”
Damian stood up and headed toward the bathroom. “Go ahead and see to her. She won’t go away. We both know that.”
Suzanne ran up behind him, clasped her arms around his waist, and pressed her pebbled nipples into his muscled back. “I’m so sorry.”
“Me too.” He placed his hands over hers and broke her grasp. He turned and took her into his embrace. “We don’t have the best timing, do we, mo cridhe?”
She laughed, exhilarated that he wasn’t angry. “No. We’re going to have to get better at this.”
“Aye.” He brushed his lips across her cheek. “I love you,” he said, “and I will make love to you. I need to.”
She nodded. “I know. I need it too. Later, okay?”
“Later.” He broke the embrace, walked into the bathroom, and shut the door.
The shower whooshed.
Again.
Suzanne pulled on a pair of sweats and a tank top. “What is it?” she demanded, opening the door.
Her cousin didn’t apologize or offer any explanation for her behavior, which puzzled Suzanne.
“Get dressed,” Isabella said. “We need to talk.”
23
“It’s a Book of Shadows,” Isabella said in response to Suzanne’s query about the heavy volume her cousin had plunked into her lap.
The two women sat in Isabella’s bedroom, a plate of sweet cakes and a carafe of wine between them. Cakes and ale, Isabella had said, from a recipe of Merlina’s. She had labored over them in the powerless kitchen of the castle and then promptly called an electrician in Thurso once dawn had broken. He was due later today to give an estimate and begin work.
“What’s a Book of Shadows?”
“It a witch’s handbook, of sorts,” Isabella said. “Each witch creates her own book, adding to it the spells she writes, her own special potions and tinctures, recipes, and anything else that’s important to her craft.”
“So your grandmother was a witch, then?”
“So it would appear.”
Suzanne sighed and faced her cousin. “So. You interrupted me this morning to tell me your grandmother was a witch? Jesus, Bell.”
“No, no, no. I would never do that.” Isabella stood, paced around the room in a semi-circle, and then sat back down. “But why would you care if I had interrupted you? Don’t tell me you changed your mind about Damian. Again.”
“So what if I did?”
“Oh, Suze.”
“Look. I know it’s a mistake. But it’s mine to make. I’ll only be here for a few weeks. Why not have some fun?”
“Because that’s not you, Suzanne. You don’t have fun.”
“Hey!”
“You know what I mean. You’ve never been able to separate sex and love. What makes you think you can start now?”
“I don’t know.” She smiled. “Maybe you could hex me or something.”
Isabella laughed and shook her head. “Oh no, you don’t. Magic doesn’t exist solely when it serves your purpose. You either embrace it in your life or you don’t. You can’t have it both ways.”
“Maybe I’ll embrace it, then.”
“Nothing would make me happier, cuz, but I still won’t hex you. That’s black magic.”
Suzanne let out a sharp breath. “Whatever. Let’s get back to why you roused me out of an insanely gorgeous man’s bed this morning.”
“Okay.” Isabella sat down on the floor next to Suzanne and opened the second large volume. “The book you’re holding has all of Merlina’s spells and incantations, her recipes, etcetera. But this one…”
“Yeah?”
“This one was a complete surprise.”
“How so?”
“Well, there’s a detailed family tree in it, but you’d have no interest in that. There’s also a history of Padraig. Apparently—” Isabella cleared her throat. “We’re living in spook central.”
“Spook central?” Suzanne swallowed her mouthful of cake.
“It’s hard to fathom, even for a believer like me, so I know how fantastic this is going to sound to you. Apparently the little town of Padraig is a hangout for entities who are”—she cleared her throat again—“other than human.”
“Excuse me?”
“Vampires, for the most part, some ghosts, an occasional demon.”
“Oh come on, Bell.”
“I know, it’s crazy. But Merlina has a whole history in here.” She flipped pages of the book in Suzanne’s lap. “Evidently, the vampires aren’t a bad sort, in general. They’re just a different race. An ancient one.”
“So should we be wearing garlic around our necks?” Suzanne laughed.
“This is serious, Suze. And no, garlic won’t do any good. That’s a myth.”
“Bell, this whole darn thing is a myth. Your grandmother was obviously off her rocker. Is there Alzheimer’s in your family?”
“Not that I know of. Then again, I know next to nothing about the O’Days.” Isabella shook her head. “My grandmother wasn’t crazy. Dougal would have mentioned it if she were.”
“Would he? Maybe he didn’t know.”
“He’s lived here for years.”
“That’s another thing. Why would Dougal and Damian live here? After all—” Suzanne quickly closed her mouth. She had promised Damian she wouldn’t tell anyone he was David Branson. But the question haunted her. Why would he and his father continue to live in a drafty old castle with no electricity, when they could afford to live wherever they wanted?
“I don’t know why they live here. Maybe Dougal felt a responsibility to stay with Merlina.”
“Don’t you think we should ask them about Merlina? About whether she had all her, you know, faculties?”
Isabella nodded.
Talk of Damian and Dougal sparked a memory. “Damian knows Merlina was a witch. He told me last night.”
“Did he? How did it come up?”
Suzanne giggled. “I told him about our naked dance under the full moon and that you were a witch.”
“Oh.”
“But Bell, there’s a big difference between believing you’re a witch—”
“We don’t believe, we know,” Isabella said adamantly.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Suzanne rolled her eyes. “Knowing you’re a witch and believing in vampires are two completely different things.”
“I won’t argue with you there.”
“Tell me more of this fairy tale, then. What else did you find about these alleged vampires?”
“Now you’re talking like a lawyer.”
“I am a lawyer.”
“Right.” Isabella smiled. “They live longer than humans. Their normal life span is about five hundred years. And although the sun won’t necessarily kill them, they are extremely sensitive to it. They can’t go out in daylight without sunscreen, and even then, they will probably burn within half an hour. Most of them avoid going out during the day.”
“Which explains the nightlife in Padraig.”
“What do you mean?”
“The other night, when I went out. It was lit up like Vegas.”
“Hmmm. Are you beginning to believe, my skeptical cousin?”
