A Love For Lera (Haikon) (2 page)

“What?” she said.

“Listen to me before you say yes,
beag amháin
.”

He’s going to help me.
She waited, her
withering hope flaring, rejuvenated within her even as she tried unsuccessfully
to translate what he’d called her.

“I will help you find your friend. But there are
ground rules. When I give you an order, you’ll follow it.”

“So long as it’s reasonable.”

“I’m not done,” he bit off.

“Sorry.” Lera frowned over the intensity of his
tone. It was extremely controlled.

“
I
give an order, and
you
follow
it. I also need to know you can handle me touching you. At a lot of these places,
they will need to know you are not available. Could you handle that?” His eyes
gleamed in the light. “Can you handle everyone knowing that,” his tone dropped
deeper and huskier than she could ever recall it being, “you belong to me?”

He made it sound so absolute, so permanent. Those
knots were back in her belly and a whole slew of other places. Feelings she
wasn’t used to experiencing raised their head. She ignored them and focused on
the image of Rissa’s gentle brown face with her big sepia eyes.

“Can you handle me walking up behind you and
grabbing your ass, or jerking you into my arms and kissing you?” Into his voice
leeched some of his toe-curling Irish accent, and his  gray eyes, burning with
feral fire, held her prisoner. “Because if you can’t,
beag amháin
, it
ends now, and you are on the first flight back to South Africa. And I
will
make sure Dane knows what you’ve been up to and why I’m sending you home.”

Did I really think there was no emotion in
those eyes? Or that voice?
Her throat felt uncomfortably dry and tight. She
could feel her heart pounding, and there was an ache in the pit of her belly.

“You can dish it out, I can handle it,” she
informed him.

Lera knew he wanted her to say no, and truth be
told, were it anyone else, she would have most likely said no. Although, anyone
else also would have gone straight to her father. But it wasn’t anyone else;
this was Cormac MacLochlainne. And it was for Rissa.

“We’ll see,
mo chara
,” he purred.

Unable to continue holding his gaze, Lera walked
with shaking knees to the bathroom where, once behind the closed door, she
settled, quaking, to the lowered toilet seat cover. She stripped off her gloves
and clenched and unclenched her fingers a few times.

“Hang on, Rissa. I’m coming,” she whispered to
the room.

With a determined breath, she washed her face and
hands, dried them, and had her gloves back on before she opened the door. Kori
leaned against the wall, those roped muscular arms still crossed.

Lera gave him a dismissive glance and strode to
the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Where are you going?”

She paused with her hand on the knob. “My hotel
room.”

“And the bar?”

Lera opened the door but peered briefly over her
shoulder at him. “You said you’d help me find her. I won’t go back there
without you.” She walked through and pulled it shut behind her. Heading down
the steps to her bike, Lera could feel his eyes on her but she never looked
back, just got on and drove off.

Cormac “Kori” MacLochlainne shook with need. He
stared out the window and watched Lera vanish into the night on her motorcycle.
He’d been up in Canada when he felt her presence. The one who was created for
him and he for her. His mate. Valera Grace Sidorov. A fact he was sure she
didn’t know. No one did; no one aside from him.

But he’d known since the day her young mind
screamed out and reached him in agony at the injustices she suffered. From that
moment, he’d become her angel. Unable to be there and physically save her, he
took her mind to a safe place. Eventually, he told her about Dane when he
headed that way, knowing full well Dane would do as he did. Take her in as one
of his own. Kori avoided her until she turned thirteen, which was when they’d
first met face to face. Unlike she did with everyone else, she didn’t call him
by his first name, but used his nickname. He liked that; it made him feel
special. Kori kept their interactions to a minimum and ensured his emotions
weren’t present on his face. When she was nineteen, the urge to claim her then
had flown powerfully through him but he’d ignored it. Lera was now twenty-five,
and he was ready to make his declaration on her. She was scared, and he knew he
needed to go slowly. But he also knew she was his future.

He’d tracked her here and had almost come
unhinged when she entered the small dive of a bar. Lust and a roaring need for
her had blindsided him. She’d strode in wearing black leather pants along with
a silver and charcoal gray leather race-fit motorcycle jacket which covered her
shirt. Her thick black hair now had some copper highlights through it. He had
seen the heel of her boot when she’d swung her leg over her bike and he shook
his head. She would be riding in heels.

His wolf had risen protectively within him like
it always did in regards to her. When she’d tossed back the shot like it was
water, he’d wanted to kill whomever had taught her to drink. Still, he was
arrogantly proud when she cocked that sexy brow of hers without so much as a
wince from the drink. Fighting Cock was 108 proof, and she acted as if it were
water. But when those three surrounded her, Kori acted. He knew she was
frightened, he knew she hated to be touched, but it never showed on her face.
Her expression remained composed in a mask of disdain and boredom. And she’d
been more than ready to defy him, too, until he allowed her to see the wolf in
him. She’d deferred to him but it took a moment, and he knew she wouldn’t have
done so with anyone else.

Which is fine since no one else should be near
her.

“Then, she goes and climbs on a bike. Not a nice
safe one, no, a sleek silver and gray Suzuki Hayabusa, a racing bike,” he
muttered as his cock got even harder.

Watching her firm legs straddle the bike had been
like a wet dream. Add to that the fact she had touched him, and he couldn’t do
anything but offer to help. If he was smart, he’d ignore the deal and send her
packing home to Daddy.

“I must be a dumbass then, because I’m keeping
her here with me. And I know Dane would rip out my throat, for more than one
reason.”

He paced for a while, but two hours later, Kori
ran a hand down his face and found himself outside in a heartbeat. The urge to
see her again overwhelmed everything else. The dark of the night covered him
like a lover and concealed him until he reached her hotel. Searching, he found
her scent, fresh and pure, and another round of lust pounded him. Lera didn’t
wear perfume or scented lotions, and he loved her natural smell.

Before he realized it, he’d picked the lock and
slipped into her dark room. His rapid reflexes were the only reason he wasn’t
bleeding. He jumped back as the material of his shirt parted courtesy of the
blade she’d swiped at him. Two more quick and precise attacks came before he
opened his mouth.

“Stop attacking me, Lera.”

“Kori?” Her voice was sleepy but hard.

A glow filled the room as she turned on the
light. And he lost what little breath he had left. Her hair was tousled; a
light gray sleeveless tatty t-shirt hung from her shoulders and black lounge
pants rode low on curvy hips. And around her neck sat a silver necklace, one he
knew well for he’d given it to her when she was thirteen. A silver oval with
the Ogham letter “C” marking on it in jet. Need, raw, hungry and angry roared
through him. He could feel the wolf pushing through.

“Are you insane?” she snapped. “Why would you
sneak in here? I
told
you I wouldn’t go back to the bar without you.”
Lera raked a hand through her hair, and the light in the room glinted off the
silver rings on her hands. “Sweet goddess, do you know what my daddy would do
if I had to tell him I killed you?”

Kori fought the urge to smile. He couldn’t begin
to explain how grateful he was by her not even thinking he was there to hurt
her. “Yeah, I can imagine how bad
my
death would be for
you
,” he
drolled, cocking a brow at her.

Her face scrunched up, and he had this
overwhelming urge to kiss her senseless.

“Did you just crack a joke? The ever serious
Cormac MacLochlainne cracked a joke?” Lera smiled, and he felt his knees
weaken, even more so with the way his given name rolled off her tongue, spoken
like a true Irish lass. “I think the world just shifted on its axis.”

He knew his reputation. More than that, he liked
it. But he was suitably pleased by the look on her face. The happy, relaxed
look normally reserved for her family, her immediate family; for while she
loved her extended family, he could tell she didn’t totally relax around them.
This look was one he’d not been privileged to receive, not before today. And
she was right; the world did shift, at least for him. Her smile packed one hell
of a punch.

“I know how to joke,
beag amháin
” he said.

“Sure you do,” she retorted in a patronizing
tone. Lera sat on the edge of the lone bed, and his mind took him down a road
he
knew
she wasn’t ready for. “Sorry about your shirt.”

Kori glanced down at the diagonal tear in it.
“Better the shirt than my chest.” He frowned and stared back at her. “What the
hell was all that?”

She rolled her shoulders. “I told you I wasn’t
helpless. Besides, you were the one breaking and entering. I was merely
defending myself. I would think you’d be happy to know I don’t have the habit
of letting men walk willy-nilly into my room at night.”

His wolf snarled, and he admitted she had a good
point. “Let me see your weapon.”

Lera reached behind her and threw him a black
cylindrical tube of about three inches long. Lightweight and, by all
appearances, harmless.

“This is what you used?” he asked doubtfully.

“Yes.”

“Show me.” He tossed it back to her.

Lera snatched it out of the air, and before he
had time to breathe, a black point was aimed directly at his jugular. She had
that defiant look in her eyes, and it made him even hornier. Lera moved it back
and held it between them. Another point extended from the other end, turning it
into a staff. Then, just like that, it was gone, and Lera had hidden it on her
body.

He was definitely impressed. “Who gave you this?”

“Uncle Dak made it for me.” She tucked her
necklace back under her shirt. “I’m not helpless, Kori. I have skills and items
to make me stronger.” Lingering in her tone was something he couldn’t quite
identify.

Uncle Dak. Hunter Adamek Nervig.

“I’m beginning to see that.” He sat in the chair
and looked at her. “Are you sure you want to do this, Valera?”

Her gaze snapped to his. “What are you talking
about? Would
you
let someone you cared about remain in danger if you had
the opportunity to help them?” He frowned, and she continued, “Of course you
wouldn’t. I’ll do whatever it takes to save her.”

“Including agreeing to be mine?”

“Whatever it takes.” She shrugged. “Besides, it’s
not real anyway.”

Oh baby, it’s so very real.
Kori could see
she was desperately holding onto her control. He got up and moved to her side,
hating how her body was tense. “Look at me, Lera,” he murmured. Her brown eyes
met his. “You know I won’t hurt you, right?”
I would sooner die than hurt
you.

“I know. It’s just…” She looked away.

“I’m going to touch you, Lera,” he whispered.
“Look at me,
mo anam
.”

Her gaze lifted back to his, and he could see her
hiding behind her walls of armor. Kori reached out with one hand and touched
her cheek. Emotions flared hot and powerful within him at the contact of her
smooth skin. He longed to slip deeper into her thoughts from where he hid in
the corner of her mind and assure her she was safe with him, but he couldn’t.
He wouldn’t. Not yet. Kori wanted her to come to him of her own volition.

“Are you going to be okay sharing a room with
me?” he asked, refusing to allow her gaze to drop from his.

“My father trusts you, Kori; therefore, I know
I’m safe with you. I will do
whatever
I have to in order to find out
what happened to Rissa. I just need to wrap my head around it.”

I don’t think your father would trust me with
you if he knew.
Reluctantly, he dropped his hand from her face; it was like
a knife cutting out his heart at the relief which filled her eyes. He wanted to
touch her all over, strip her naked and teach her what it was like to be a mate
to him. He longed to please her, in and out of bed. Keep her safe; give her his
child to carry within her.

“Okay. Tell me about this bike of yours.”

Her smile returned, brilliant and intoxicating.
Yep,
I’m officially jealous of a motorcycle.

“My gift to myself when I graduated from college.
A Suzuki Hayabusa, 1340cc, DOHC liquid-cooled 16-valve engine. Twin swirl
combustion chambers and six speed transmission. A friend of mine painted the
tags on it; I got the gray and silver finish because I love the sleek look.”
Her voice filled with pride and joy as she spoke about her ride.

Yeah, me, too.
“Friend? Male friend?”
Anger and possessiveness rose fast, nearly overwhelming him.

Her smile slipped slightly. “I don’t have many
male friends.”

“You have at least one, Lera.” He reached out and
tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, contrite for how harsh he’d sounded. “At
least one.”

“Kim is amazing with a brush, so he did it for
me.” She didn’t even flinch from Kori’s quick touch, and it pleased him to no
end.

He remembered the markings on her bike. One he
recognized, one he didn’t. “What made you decide to have a torc put on it? And
what’s the other symbol?”